


Hell on the Engine

by tarajuku



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Brian Banner is an asshole, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Has Issues, Canonical Child Abuse, Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Suicide, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony drinks too much, a couple of idiot geniuses, talking about suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarajuku/pseuds/tarajuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark, famous for his social antics as much as his name, is serving court-ordered community service at the headquarters of the local suicide hotline when he finds himself on the phone with a desperate, suicidal Bruce Banner. </p><p>Tony manages to talk Bruce down and then goes on with his life assuming he'll never cross paths with Bruce again. </p><p>When he unexpectedly encounters Bruce again a few months later, Tony is intrigued by how different he seems from the phone call and dedicates himself to figuring out how the pieces of Bruce's puzzle fit together. Bruce has no idea Tony is the guy from the suicide hotline and Tony intends to keep it that way. </p><p>Tony never meant to actually get involved in Bruce's life or to genuinely care about Bruce and by the time he realizes he has, it's far too late to tell the truth without screwing everything up. As he and Bruce grow closer and closer, Tony decides that the best thing to do is try to convince himself the call never happened because there is absolutely no way Bruce could ever find out his secret.</p><p>Tony is kind of an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an [avengerkink](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17385.html?thread=38593769) prompt.
> 
> I can't believe I'm actually posting this? It's been in the works for literally months and when I started, I only intended it to be a couple of chapters. 50k+ words later...here we are. 
> 
> [Renata](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter) deserves a medal or something for letting me talk at her for MONTHS about this, beta-ing, and encouraging me to finally post it. Sophi gets a medal too, I have spent a lot of time talking at people about this is what I'm saying here. 
> 
> **relevant background that might not be obvious in the story:**  
>  It's a modern-day and Tony and Bruce are 25 and 24, respectively. Bruce's background is essentially canon compliant (sans Hulk). Tony's...isn't. Same ridiculous IQ, same educational background, but his parents are alive and Howard is still running SI. Tony is 'Kardashian famous' and, because he refuses to keep with Stark tradition and make weapons, he basically does whatever he wants and usually works from home (he lives in the Malibu house by himself). He reports to Obadiah and as long as he produces something that turns a profit on a regular basis, Obie leaves him alone to do his thing, which mostly consists of tinkering, drinking, and partying.

_Ring Ring_

Tony paused his music and poked his head out from behind the computer monitor. Just as he expected, the room was empty. It was between shifts - Ian was gone and Steve wasn’t due in for at least half an hour - and any calls were supposed to be forwarded to whichever volunteer was on call, so Tony had no idea why the phone was still ringing.

Tony wasn’t trained to answer calls, nor was he particularly interested in being trained. Unlike the rest of the volunteers, Tony wasn’t donating his time out of the goodness of his heart. He was there because, thanks to his (and, more significantly, his father’s) influence and wealth, the judge had spared him the jail time he deserved for his fourth DUI. Instead, Tony’s sentence was three months volunteering with the LA County Department of Mental Health Services – specifically, overhauling their entire ancient computer system, the main server of which was housed in the same dreary basement as the headquarters of the county’s suicide hotline. He’d actually met his service requirement a few days ago but he was in the midst of an extensive upgrade and he didn’t want to leave before it was finished and installed. It was almost done, though, and he was looking forward to the end of the week because after that, he knew he’d never have to step foot in that depressing room again.

_Ring Ring_

He tried to tune the ringing out, turning back to his computer and checking the installation status. 46%. He grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to Rhodey that he’d be done in about an hour.

_Ring Ring_

He turned his music up but muted it again almost immediately. The phone was still ringing; whoever was calling still hoped someone would answer, but nobody was there to pick up the phone. Nobody except Tony.

_Ring Ring_

Tony sighed. Ignoring a call to the suicide hotline was really fucked up, even for him. He walked the few steps to Steve’s desk, took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.

“You’ve reached the LA County Suicide Crisis Hotline. If this is a life-threatening emergency please hang up and dial 911 immediately – your life is _always_ worth living and we’re here to listen.” He’d overheard the greeting probably hundreds of times and the words tumbled from his mouth like he, too, said them every day.

“Hello? I thought… nobody was there.”

“Sorry about that. Technical difficulties. How can I...we, how can we help you tonight?” Tony tried to be as quiet as he could while he rummaged through Steve’s desk drawers in search of the volunteer training handbook, which he hoped could help him not completely fuck up and maybe make this guy actually off himself.

“I, well...uh...fuck.” The call suddenly sounded muffled and Tony heard a noise that sounded like some kind of cross between a laugh and a sob. Then the line cleared up again and the caller exhaled loudly into the phone. “Fuck, I’m sorry. This is so…yeah, I can’t do this, I’m just gonna go…”

“Hey, no, wait. Don’t hang up.” The response was reflexive and it made Tony cringe as he said it. He didn’t know why he was trying to stop the man from hanging up when all his instincts were telling him to cover his own ass, track down whoever was supposed to be on call, and get the hell away before he got too involved. If the guy hung up on his own before he actually started talking Tony wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

“No, this was a mistake. I’m okay. I don’t want to waste your time, you’ve got other calls from people with real problems.”

“Okay, first? I’ve been sitting around working on the computers for like five hours and, until you called, the phone rang exactly once and it was someone trying to order a pizza. And I’m pretty sure you’re not okay so you should probably keep talking.” He’d made a mess of Steve’s desk but there was no sign of the handbook. Tony was completely on his own and maybe he had no idea what he was doing but he was prepared to wing it. Bullshitting _was_ one of his greatest strengths, after all, especially when said bullshitting involved saving his own ass.

And hopefully this guy’s ass, too.

“What?” the man asked after a long pause.

“You’re not okay,” Tony said, leaning back in Steve’s chair and putting his feet up on the desk, kicking some books and papers out of his way in the process. “You called the suicide hotline, you stayed on the line even though it rang about twelve times and now you’re gonna hang up just like that because you’re okay? I don’t buy it. You’re not, so let’s talk about it, that’s why you called in the first place, isn’t it? To talk? Hey, what’s your name?”

“Bruce.”

“Hi Bruce, I’m...Edward.” Tony went with his middle name just in case he did fuck up and end up getting blamed in Bruce’s suicide note.

Tony reclined back as far as he could in Steve’s chair and listened to Bruce’s fidgeting, coughing, breathing, and whatever else he was doing instead of talking.

“So, why’d you call? Bruce?” Tony finally asked when it became clear Bruce had no intention of saying anything.

“I just…” Bruce muttered. He sighed. “I promised.”

“Promised what?”

“She made me promise if I ever…um. She gave me the number and made me promise next time I had to call first.”

“Who’s ‘she’?” Tony asked.

“She’s… she’s Betty. I told her I’d call so…I did,” Bruce said quickly. “I guess it might help a little, just...talking to someone.”

“Like, just chatting?” Tony asked. “I mean, go right ahead, like I said, not much happening on this end, but that’s not really--”

“No, no. Maybe I said that wrong. Someone who’ll listen without...someone who doesn’t know anything about me. A…a stranger, I guess. God, that sounds so fucking pathetic, I’m sorry.”

“That’s literally why this hotline exists, you know. So, Bruce, you still want to hang up or are you gonna talk?” 

Silently Tony still hoped Bruce would chicken out and hang up. He knew how fucked up it was and he wasn’t proud of his selfishness, but it had just occurred to Tony that, if he did get Bruce to talk, he’d be expected to actually listen. The list of people whose problems Tony had the patience to care about was very exclusive and he had no intention of expanding its ranks to three for some complete stranger he’d never hear from again.

“I’m…” Bruce hesitated for a moment. He inhaled loudly, breath catching in the back of his throat, and when he spoke, he tripped over his words as they spilled out of his mouth in a long, breathless chain. “I can’t do this anymore but there’s no way out, not now, not for me, and this time my best option, the _only_ thing I can think of that’ll do any good is killing myself before I fuck everything up even more by just _existing_ and she probably doesn’t even care whether or not I call you now but, fuck, she actually gave a shit once, more than I can say about anyone else, and I promised and…yeah, wow, I didn’t…that’s…I’m…I guess that counts as ‘not okay,’ doesn’t it?”

“Just a little,” Tony said stupidly. His brain was too busy scrambling for an appropriate response to Bruce’s surprisingly candid confession to produce anything more eloquent. “Okay, Bruce, first of all, I’m pretty sure suicide is never the _best_ option. Like, I can’t think of a single situation where this ‘killing myself will really make this better’ logic isn’t complete bullshit,”

“My whole life is a mess,” Bruce said. “I screwed everything up, _everything_ , it’s all my fault and the only thing I can do about it now is remove myself from the picture. Permanently.”

“Nope,” Tony said when Bruce didn’t elaborate further. “Wrong again. Everyone screws up, me, you, the Pope, everyone. Hell, sometimes it feels like all I _do_ is fuck up but you know what? Even if that’s true it doesn’t mean I get a free pass to go blow my brains out. I… I just keep going and hope I do better next time. Yeah.”

“How?” Bruce’s voice softened and Tony squirmed in his seat at the vulnerability and desperation Bruce conveyed in the single word. “I mean, if you _really_ screw up, how are you supposed to…deal, I guess? Live with it?”

Tony’s immediate thought was ‘lots of booze, drugs, and sex’ but he was thankfully able to keep that to himself. He had a feeling that wasn’t the kind of advice Bruce needed right now.

“You...deal. You just need to...adapt, I guess?” Tony’s response was hesitant and vague; he was trying to give Bruce an honest answer, not some self-help bullshit, because he realized he really did want to help Bruce. He also knew he wasn’t exactly the poster child for good ways to deal with life’s bullshit, and he figured they’d both be better off if he kept that to himself and came up with something a little more appropriate. “You can’t undo whatever you did, don’t even bother trying that. You’re stuck with it, so you either have to get used to it or try to make it better. Running away’s just gonna make it worse.”

“What if I can’t? What if it’s too big to fix?” Tony jumped at the sudden change in Bruce’s tone, from soft and shaky to forceful and loud, not quite yelling but close.

“Bruce, if you want to have this conversation you’ve gotta tell me what you did,” Tony sighed. “I can’t help if I don’t know the whole story.” He was unsurprised at the long silence that followed; finally, almost a full minute later, Bruce cleared his throat.

“Okay,” Bruce said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Okay. Well, um...I’m in grad school. With Betty, she’s in my program. We work together a lot. She’s...she’s _Betty_ , I don’t know how to describe her besides that.” The phone was suddenly muffled again as Bruce unsuccessfully tried to hide his sniffling.

“Okay, so you and your girlfriend work together,” Tony said as soon as the line cleared up again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bruce said quickly. “We’re friends. I mean, we’re really close, she knows me better than anyone else, but we’re not, like, together. Not like that. Um. So. We’re, well, we _were_ working on this huge project together, just me and Betty, all semester. And everything was great, you know, uh, with the project. It’s...it was always the best part of my day, down in the labs with Betty, just us, and everything was so comfortable. It was great. Until last week.”

“What happened last week?”

“I...I got mad. At Betty. I couldn’t think straight, I was so angry, I couldn’t… She tried to calm me down, she told me to go outside, but that just pissed me off even more. And I…” Bruce paused to suck in a huge breath. “She got hurt, really badly. Because I couldn’t control…I didn’t mean to hurt her, _never_ , Edward, believe me, please. I’d never hurt _anyone_ , especially not Betty, fuck, it makes me sick to even think about it. I was trying to get all the anger out, get myself back under control, by taking it out on whatever I could grab, anything that was nearby. Our experiment, all our work, I...fuck. I made a mess, I was out of control. I told Betty to get out of there and leave me alone but she wouldn’t and she was _scared_ of me, fuck, and she...she got in the way. Obviously it wasn’t her fault, not at all, she was trying to save whatever she could before I destroyed everything but she got too close and I don’t know what I did but it,” Bruce swallowed and took a few shaky, shallow breaths before continuing. 

“It exploded, it blew up literally right in her face, she was standing right there and, Edward, fuck, I was trying not to hurt her, she wouldn’t leave and I tried to stay away from her so she wouldn’t get hurt, I didn’t _touch_ her but it didn’t matter, whatever I did just…directly at her. It didn’t even touch me. There was so much blood, she was screaming, and I wasn’t mad anymore, all I could do was tell her how sorry I was, how it should’ve been me, and when they were putting her in the ambulance I tried to...I just tried to touch her hand, you know, to comfort her or...maybe to comfort myself, I don’t know. And she...she wouldn’t let me, she pulled her whole arm away from me and she wouldn’t even look at me. She’s scared of me, _Betty_ is scared of me, and I guess she should be because I put her in the hospital, probably for a long time, just because I was pissed off over _nothing_. So, yeah, I fucked everything up and I can’t do anything to fix it. How the hell am I supposed to live with myself after that?”

“Bruce,” Tony started, gently. “Bruce, it was an accident.”

“How is that an accident? I got angry, I made a mess of everything, and now Betty’s paying the price. It’s all my fault, all because I can’t control my fucking temper. I never wanted to be like h…like that.”

“Bruce, it’s...okay, maybe it’s not exactly an _accident_ , but it’s not like you tried to hurt her on purpose, you didn’t hit her or anything. You said it yourself, you were wrecking shit so you _wouldn’t_ hurt her. How were you supposed to know it was going to explode?” Tony said, keeping his voice calm. He was sugarcoating his reaction a little bit for Bruce’s sake, because Bruce was hardly blameless, but it wasn’t like he ever intended to lay a finger on her. Tony barely knew Bruce but he knew that was the truth. “What were you so pissed off about, anyway?”

“It’s so awful,” Bruce groaned. His voice was still shaky. “It’s so messed up, God, I know how bad it sounds. It’s…I’m a fucking asshole, okay? Betty… she was so excited. Her boyfriend, he proposed, ring and everything. She was so happy and I…I tried to be happy for her, I honestly did. But I...something snapped. I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t deal with it, something else just...took over. And, well, you know the rest.”

“I thought you two were just friends?” Tony asked, trying to put Bruce’s story together.

“We are,” Bruce snapped. “That’s why it’s so fucked up, we’re not dating or anything. We tried once, years ago, and it didn’t work out. I obviously knew she had a boyfriend, they’ve been together for a really long time and he’s actually a pretty nice guy. But I guess I always thought, one day...I just never realized it until she was showing me the ring and she was so happy and I couldn’t...I know how fucked up that is, I know she can do whatever she wants, she’s not my _property_ or whatever. And, God, every time I think about it I want to...well, I want to kill myself. I deserve it.”

“Stop it,” Tony said seriously. He could hear the self-loathing dripping off Bruce’s words and it made him genuinely nervous. “Did you talk to her about it?”

“I can’t. I tried. All I want to do is see her, talk to her, know if she’s gonna be okay. But she won’t answer my calls or texts and the General won’t...oh, yeah, that’s Betty’s father. The General. He won’t let me see her, he’s actually guarding the door to her room 24/7, him or one of his cronies. He’d ban me from the whole hospital if he could. He hates me, he always has, only this time he’s got a real reason.”

“Shit, that’s rough.”

“That’s not...he’s got connections. He’s a big shot, knows all the right people. He’s been threatening to go after me for years, the only reason he didn’t was he knew Betty would be on my side. But now? After this? He’s not gonna stop until he destroys my whole life.”

“He can’t do that, not your _whole_ life. Yeah, he’s got a lock on Betty, but you’ve still got school, your work, okay, maybe not this project but you can start over, or start something new. Other people, too, you know, friends and family, he can’t take any of that away.”

“Edward, I don’t really have a lot going for me. Trust me. I’ve got my work, and everything else at school, and Betty. That’s about it. And it’s all gone now, he made sure of that. He’s got connections at my university and he must have called in a bunch of favors as soon as he found out. All my funding was cut by the next morning. He cancelled the internship I was supposed to have next semester. He even got me put on academic probation, I don’t know _how_ , but he did and I got dropped from my program for that. But, um, none of that even matters, not after he made sure I’m not eligible to get financial aid ever again. Not a single dollar. It’s all gone.” Bruce’s voice was bordering on hysterical and his breathing grew quicker and shallower while he spoke.

“Breathe, Bruce,” Tony said gently, easily. He’d spent many of his formative years talking his mother down from her regular panic attacks (before she vanished into a haze of pills and alcohol while Tony was away at boarding school) so when he realized Bruce was on the edge of one he didn’t have to think about what to do; instead, he patiently reminded Bruce to breathe and reassured him until he calmed down.

“Sorry,” Bruce mumbled after he’d stopped hyperventilating. “That was…um…yeah. He wanted to ruin my life and it didn’t even take him a day to do it. Financial aid is the only reason I’m there. Without my scholarships and grants and everything, there’s no way I can afford school and he knows it. Shit, I can’t even pay rent, I live in a dorm…well, I used to. I don’t know what to do, I don’t have any money. Seriously. I’ve been in school forever and I never had a real job, just work-study. I mean, I don’t even have a bank account.”

Tony quietly drummed his fingers against the desk, hoping Bruce wouldn’t hear and assume he wasn’t listening. He didn’t know how to respond to anything Bruce was saying, couldn’t even imagine being in Bruce’s shoes, and had absolutely no advice to offer him.

“If you got kicked out of your dorm...where are you staying now?” Tony held his breath, not sure he actually wanted to know the answer.

“I’m...oh God, I’m living in my car.”

“Shit, Bruce. Your car? You can’t live in your car.”

“There’s...there’s only one person who’d put me up and I just landed her in the hospital. I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s _no one_ who could help you out? Just for now? Any family?” There was a long silence, the longest of the conversation by far. Tony fidgeted with the phone cord while he waited for Bruce to answer.

“No,” Bruce finally said. His voice was steady but there was something sharp behind it. “No family.”

“Oh,” Tony said. He’d clearly hit a nerve and he was torn between wanting to know more (even if only to satiate his own curiosity) and not wanting to further upset Bruce who, Tony reminded himself, was already suicidal. 

His phone started to vibrate in his pocket and, since Bruce still wasn’t saying anything, he quickly checked his messages. He discovered several missed texts from Rhodey, including the one he’d just received.

_Where the hell are you, you said an hour. Get your ass over here ASAP, need my wingman._

Tony took a moment to think, weighed his options, then typed out his reply.

_Whole fucking thing crashed. Probably gonna take all night. You’re on your own so just give up now. You’re screwed w/o my amazing charm wit & ass._

“Sorry,” Bruce said while Tony finished texting.

“You gotta stop apologizing all the time,” Tony said, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Sorr-,” Bruce started, but cut himself off mid-apology. “At least I caught myself that time?”

“Yes you did. Look, Bruce, I’ll be straight with you. Things are really, really shitty right now, I’m not gonna lie. But that still doesn’t mean you should kill yourself. Everything’s gonna be okay, eventually. Or at least it’ll be way less shitty.” Tony didn’t know where he’d pulled that motivational bullshit out of because it sure as hell wasn’t from experience, but he was surprised at how genuinely he meant it. He realized he wanted to believe it, badly, for Bruce’s sake.

“If you say so,” Bruce said sarcastically. “I don’t believe you, but I know you guys are supposed to say all that meaningless feel-good crap, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I’m not even--” Tony cut himself off just in time. At this point, he knew he was too involved to tell Bruce the circumstances of their conversation. “Okay, no pithy platitudes, got it. But...what do you like? What’s your major, tell me about your project or even your favorite TV show or something. It’s like, sure, a lot of stuff really sucks right now, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still some good things too, right? I mean, your whole world might be falling apart but you can’t tell me a hot, juicy bacon cheeseburger wouldn’t make you feel even a tiny bit better.”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Seriously? Why? I take it back, you _are_ totally fucked.” The words were out of Tony’s mouth before he realized what he was saying and his brain immediately jumped into overdrive, simultaneously castigating himself because _what the fuck is wrong with you, Stark_ and frantically trying to put together a sincere apology.

Then, to Tony’s absolute shock, Bruce started laughing.

“Um, Bruce? You okay? Wow, I really fucked that one up, didn’t I? Told you.”

“No.” Bruce said, still laughing. It wasn’t really a happy laugh, there was more than a little bite behind it, but Tony figured it was better than not laughing at all. “I mean, most people would say that was insensitive or cruel or...actually, most people would probably be disgusted with you and demand to talk to your supervisor. But…well, I’m not most people.”

“Fuck most people,” Tony said, relieved. “So you don’t like bacon, you still get the point, right? Whatever disgusting rabbit food you love, that’s _always_ gonna be a good thing. Stuff like that, stupid little things, they won’t make the bullshit go away but you know you’ll feel a little better. Sure, maybe it’s something dumb or unimportant but it’s something you’re looking forward to and if you’ve got something to look forward to, well, there’s one reason not to kill yourself right now.”

Tony squirmed uncomfortably as he spoke, hoping Bruce couldn’t hear any shift in his tone. This time, Tony’s advice was hitting way too close to home and he didn’t want Bruce to pick up on the change from his previous bullshitting. Tony had suggested the idea because he knew from personal experience how much it could help when everything else felt like shit. Tony’s endgame wasn’t suicide (of course not, just the same concept, he could relate to Bruce without acknowledging any vaguely suicidal thoughts he definitely hadn’t ever entertained) but for years the idea of things like bacon cheeseburgers he could eat and awesome robots he could build were sometimes the only things keeping him from “accidentally” drinking himself into a coma.

“I really like falafel,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “And sweet potato fries. Not together, obviously.”

“Hey, don’t knock it til you try it,” Tony said, laughing. “What other veggie comfort foods are there anyway? I don’t think, like, tofu buffalo wings sound very comforting but what do I know?”

“No, that does sound pretty terrible.”

“Glad we’re on the same page here,” Tony said. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and, a second later, heard someone unlocking the door. _Shit, shit, please don’t let that be Steve, anyone but Steve_. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of about a thousand keys banging against each other on a giant keyring and he sat up straight. He’d know that sound anywhere. At least twice a week that sound was Tony’s 30-second warning to hide his beer and/or porn before Steve walked in.

“Oh, shit.” Tony’s heart was pounding as he quickly pulled his feet off Steve’s desk and sat up straight.

“What?”

“Nothing, no, it’s...it’s a spider, a really huge one, like two inches away from my head,” Tony said, trying to keep himself at least audibly together as he heard Steve coming closer and closer. “Anyway, yeah, comfort foods, even the name tells you what’s up with that. You could probably make a whole list of comfort foods only and it’d keep you going for at least a year.” Tony’s heart was pounding harder and he was talking faster and faster as though that would save him from Steve’s impending wrath. “Hmm, comfort foods without meat, yeah, what else, mac and cheese for sure, oh, and, surprisingly, green bean casserole which sounds nasty but is actually fucking delici…”

“Tony, what the hell are you doing?” Steve was right behind him and Tony didn’t need to turn around to know exactly what Steve was doing. Steve had apparently been in the Army (which Tony only knew because Rhodey told him – Steve never talked about it) and he definitely looked the part; he was built like a tank, about a million feet tall with ridiculously wide shoulders and more muscles than seemed possible, but from the neck up he looked like the most wholesome, docile guy who’d ever lived, the all-American boy next door or something. Most of the time that description was sickeningly accurate, but on the rare occasion Steve got really mad it became very clear how easily he could kick basically anyone’s ass. And Tony could tell without even peeking that Steve was really, _really_ mad.

“Tony, stop ignoring me. This is serious. Please tell me that’s a personal call, Tony, please tell me the only rule you’re breaking right now is misusing the phone line.”

Tony grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the desk, scribbled _Phone rang. I answered._ in huge letters, and shoved the paper at Steve without turning around. Bruce had been silent since Steve showed up and Tony had his hand over the phone but he still wasn’t sure it was enough to block Steve’s voice out.

“Bruce? You still there?” Tony said, removing his hand, and he finally heard Bruce breathing again. He was back to the quick, shallow breaths and sounded like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Hey, are you okay? Bruce? Just breathe, remember? In two three, out two three…”

“Green-” Bruce choked. He coughed, then started again, slower. “Green bean casserole was...when I was a kid, my mom used to make it all the time because I liked it so much, before...it always reminds me of her.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony said, trying to dodge Steve’s glare even as Steve spun the chair around as far as the phone cord would allow. “Let’s put it on the list.”

“No,” Bruce said immediately. “It’s not...no. Forget it. It’s nothing.”

“Bruce, the fact that you just told me to forget it means you probably should talk about it,” Tony said. He smacked Steve’s hand away from the phone and held the receiver tighter against his ear. “But that’s up to you. So, back to the list, okay? Falafel and sweet potato fries so far. What else? What else could cheer you up, even just a little, on the worst day of your life? Not just food.”

Steve finally gave up trying to get Tony off the phone. Instead, he crossed his arms and loomed over Tony’s shoulder, listening.

“Um...well, you said school before, right? Maybe not _school_ but we can put science on the list, it’s always been my favorite. I’m...I mean, I was in the physics department, mostly nuclear.”

“Damn Bruce,” Tony whistled. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a goddamn nuclear physicist? Finally, someone who’ll actually _understand_ my terrible science jokes! I bet you’ve got some of your own, let’s trade. After you tell me about your work.”

Tony started to lean the chair back again and was surprised when Steve didn’t object. He was even more surprised when he put his feet up on the desk and Steve’s only response was a glare.

For the first time since they’d been on the phone, Bruce sounded genuinely happy as he described his work to Tony, going into vivid detail when he realized Tony could keep up. Tony was also pretty sure he’d gotten at least two actual laughs out of Bruce with some truly terrible puns and he felt personally triumphant when Bruce actually told a few (equally awful) jokes of his own .

Steve hovered behind Tony for a few minutes, still pissed off but not actively attempting to get the phone away from Tony anymore. Apparently all the science talk was boring because Steve eventually sat down at the table across from his desk and started to work on the monthly volunteer schedule. He was still listening in, of course, and he continued to shoot Tony dirty looks whenever Tony looked up, but he seemed to have enough faith in Tony’s ability to not completely fuck up that he no longer felt the need to be within arms reach of the phone.

Bruce knew his stuff and even managed to give Tony a run for his money on a few things. Obviously nuclear physics was hardly Tony’s forte but that wasn’t the point - Bruce was clearly brilliant. The idea of someone as smart as Bruce living in his car and not being able to afford school was infuriating, almost as much as the knowledge that there was absolutely nothing Tony could do to help Bruce out except keep trying to talk him down from his metaphorical ledge. 

“Okay, Bruce,” Tony said. “Did anyone ever tell you how smart you are? Like, I think you might be a legit genius, I’m serious.”

Bruce didn’t answer and only a faint rustling sound on Bruce’s end kept Tony from thinking they’d been disconnected.

“Um,” Bruce finally said. “Can we talk about something else? I mean, um, thank you, but I don’t...just, please don’t call me that.”

“What, a genius? Don’t be so modest, I’m not kidding. Genius knows genius, okay? Takes one to know one and, well, you should be proud. What’s the problem?” Tony was smiling but his smile faded as he listened to Bruce’s quiet struggle. It sounded like he was trying his best to stay calm but he was very clearly fighting a losing battle and it took him more than a minute to steady himself enough to respond.

“It’s what my father used to call me,” Bruce said in a soft monotone. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

“But now it is! Look at it like that, forget whatever it used to mean because right now being called a genius by me is awesome.”

“No, it’s not,” Bruce snapped.

“Tell me about it?” Tony said carefully. He peeked across the room; Steve was still working with the schedule but his pen wasn’t moving and he was sitting very still, listening.

“No way,” Bruce said. “I don’t want to talk about that. Not right now.”

“Then when? Isn’t that why you called? You wanted to talk to a stranger who’d listen, well, here I am,” Tony realized he sounded a little too aggressive when Bruce didn’t respond and Steve stood up. “If you want to, I mean. I’m not trying to make you do anything you don’t want to do, okay?”

Steve sat back down.

“No, you’re right,” Bruce said reluctantly. “Before, you asked me why I wanted to kill myself. I wasn’t lying or anything, that’s all part of the reason. But I think...I think if I wasn’t me, I’d be okay with it. Not like a totally different person, just...if I had a different life, I guess? I don’t think it’d be this bad if my whole life wasn’t so…”

“Wasn’t so what?” Tony asked slowly.

“Fucked up,” Bruce said. “If my father hadn’t been so...he’s an alcoholic, he’s always been one, since before I was born.”

Tony flinched at the sudden hatred in Bruce’s voice. He couldn’t help but feel like it had been directed at him, despite the fact that Bruce didn’t know a single thing about Tony, not even his real name. There was no way Bruce knew about Tony’s drinking habits and even if he did, it wasn’t like Tony was an actual alcoholic or anything, he just liked to drink. A lot. Still, Bruce’s tone hit Tony with a vague sense of guilt sinking in the pit of his stomach.

“I used to think if he got sober things would change. Now I know it wouldn’t matter. It was an excuse, he thought he could get away with anything if he blamed it on the booze. And, well, I guess he did. He would...oh God, I’ve never actually said this out loud before. Um. He used to beat me, he’d beat the shit out of me. He did it all the time, he could always find some reason to say I deserved it. I was always smarter than him, even as a kid, and he hated me for it and, um, he’d call me a genius, a fucking genius, while he was...you know.”

“Shit, Bruce. I had no idea,” Tony said. He felt like an asshole but, come on, how was he supposed to know it was something more than Bruce just being too depressed to accept a compliment or something? “You don’t have to-”

“No, it’s okay,” Bruce cut Tony off. “I might as well get it all out, that’s supposed to help, right? Doubt it but at this point it’s worth a shot, I guess. So, yeah, he used to beat me up because I was smart, for as long as I can remember. I was a _kid_ , like five or six, it was...I learned to hide my intelligence. Just from him, mostly, but sometimes I’d, you know, screw up a test on purpose and bring it home to show him. He’d still hit me but it was never as bad.”

“That’s so fucked up,” Tony said. He shrugged when Steve shot him a dirty look. “Was it just you? No brothers or sisters? What about your mom?”

“My mom…” Bruce mumbled. He cleared his throat. “I’m an only child. Just me and him and...and my mom. He’d beat her too. She used to...when he went off to the bar or wherever to drink, she’d come and sit on my bed. We’d sit together and she would hold me and...and stroke my hair, you know, and sing to me. Just until he came back, obviously we couldn’t do that when he was around. I think I missed that more than anything after she was gone. Just sitting with her, in her arms, listening to her sing. She had a beautiful voice.” Bruce sniffled a few times in a row.

“What…” Tony started. “What happened to her?” More sniffling, and then Bruce took a deep breath.

“I was 9,” Bruce said, his voice surprisingly steady. “He was beating me up, calling me a genius while he whipped me with his belt, over and over and over again. She came home early, she usually didn’t get home until later but that day she was early. I never found out why. She came home and he was still...she tried to help me. She tried to pull him off me, she told him that was it, we were leaving, me and her. She already had our bags packed.” Bruce paused to collect himself, probably trying to disguise the hint of panic that had snuck into his voice. Tony’s stomach was churning and he started to feel sick because he was pretty sure he knew where Bruce’s story was headed.

“He…” Bruce continued, a little shaky but still under control. “I’ve never seen him so mad. He forgot all about me, he jumped right on her and started...I was right there, I saw the whole thing. She told me to run but I couldn’t move, it was like I was paralyzed. He, uh...he killed her. He killed my mom right in front of me and he said he’d kill me too if I told anyone. I was still young enough to give a shit about my life so I kept my mouth shut. He claimed it was self-defense and they bought it, I guess. He went to jail for a couple of years and I got thrown into foster care. I was a pretty messed up kid even before that and nobody wanted to put up with me for very long so I got moved around all the time. 

“Then when I was 14 he got out of jail and I had to go back and live with him. Nothing changed, except by then I was big enough to fight back. He used to...he would taunt me. About my mom. He’d tell me it was my fault, that I could’ve saved her if I really wanted to. I believed that for a long time. And he still hated that I was smart. I got a 1600 on my SATs, the old one, and I thought he’d never know about it. But they put it in the paper, apparently I was the only kid in the whole county who got a perfect score so they put my name in the paper and I didn’t know until I got home and he was waiting for me. He...I was sure he was gonna kill me too, it was so bad, but by then I didn’t really give a shit what happened to me anymore. Um...well, he didn’t kill me. Clearly. And I got the hell out of there as soon as I could, when I went to college. Haven’t been back since. I think he’s still out there but...well, that’s why I’m living in my car instead of with my family.”

“Shit,” Tony breathed. “Bruce, that’s…”

“Terrible, I know,” Bruce finished the thought. “Shit, I can’t believe I just...wow. See, I told you the only good things in my life were Betty and school. _Were_ , not anymore, not after I fucked it all up. I think that’s why it’s worse, why I’m really serious this time. Because I’ve got nothing left to live for. So, yeah, I really do want to kill myself.”

“This time?” Tony asked, horrified. He suddenly remembered what Bruce had said earlier, way back at the start of their conversation. How Betty made him promise that “next time” he’d call first.

“I’ve always...Edward, look. I know some of you hotline people have personal experience with, you know, actually being suicidal. And I can tell you don’t. That’s fine, but there are some things you just can’t understand, if you’ve never been there. Which you haven’t. You’re lucky. But you’re just gonna have to take my word for it.” Bruce paused, almost as if he was waiting for Tony to object. 

But Tony was sitting completely motionless, holding his breath and gripping the phone so tightly he was a little concerned it might break. His own phone was buzzing away in his pocket, as it had been for the past few minutes, but he continued to ignore it. He was sure it was Rhodey, trying to tempt him away from work with promises of unrestricted debauchery (Tony’s favorite kind) and he didn’t want to try to explain why he’d lost all desire to go out that night.

“The first time you’re suicidal, I mean legitimately, when suicide stops being just an idea and starts being an answer, you change. You can’t...I don’t think it’s possible to totally get over it, I guess. Once you get to that point, after you start seriously considering it, after you come up with a plan and then a back-up plan and it’s not so impossible to imagine actually going through with it, after that, there’s no going back. You…something breaks when you cross that line, I think, and then you’re in it for life.”

“Life, like, every single day?”

“Not really. I mean, not _every_ day, you can still feel okay sometimes, like anyone else. When I met Betty, all those years we worked together, I wasn’t _actively_ suicidal most of the time. But it’s always there, once you get this idea in your head, that you could override every single self-preservation instinct you’ve got and actually end your own life, it doesn’t go away. It just sits there in the back of your mind, always ready to remind you, even when you’re not depressed. It’s ridiculous, actually, how you think about it for the dumbest reasons. Bad day at work? Go home and shoot yourself. Oversleep? Overdose! Shit like that out of nowhere. You’re probably not going to actually go through with it, but that’s not the point. When suicide starts feeling like a reasonable response to everyday problems you get...desensitized. It’s not such a big deal anymore and then, the next time you really _are_ suicidal, it’s not as scary as it used to be. You know you’re supposed to be scared but you’re not, because you’ve thought about it, in graphic detail, casually, every single day so by that point, there’s nothing to be scared of anymore.” Bruce’s voice cracked and he paused for a moment. 

Tony couldn’t have said anything even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He was equally fascinated and horrified by Bruce’s words and had no intention of interrupting.

“And as soon as that dam breaks, you’re fucked,” Bruce continued. “You can patch it up, you can hide it and try not to think about it and pretend everything’s okay, but after the first time – if you even make it through that - you’re in it for life. Once you’re suicidal you’re always suicidal. Sure, it’s a continuum, there’s different degrees, you’re not always right on the edge, but you can’t escape it, not completely. At least...I can’t.”

Tony realized Steve was watching him with concern and he gripped the phone even harder, just in case Steve came over and tried to take it away again.

“Edward?”

“Sorry,” Tony muttered. “Just...processing.”

“Heavy stuff, I know,” Bruce said, laughing. “But I’m sure you’ve heard it a million times before.”

“Not...not like that.”

“I’ve never talked about it like that,” Bruce admitted. “That’s...you asked me why I called. That’s why. Because I’m not scared of it anymore and I’m not low enough, not yet, to let that slide. I called because this time it’s different. It’s worse.”

“This time,” Tony breathed again. “When...how many?”

“I lost track years ago,” Bruce said casually. Tony cursed and Bruce laughed that dark laugh again. “Really? This must be your first call or something, if _that_ surprises you.”

“I’m not-”

“Just kidding, sorry,” Bruce laughed, then cleared his throat. “Well...the first time my hands were shaking so bad I kept dropping the razor. Didn’t even leave a scar. I was six, I think. After that...a couple of times I think I came really close, but I always...last time I did the math first. Figured out exactly how many pills washed down with exactly how much vodka would be enough to kill a man of my size and build. Except apparently I messed up and, Edward, I’ve never messed up an equation in my life. But I screwed that one up pretty bad and Betty found me puking it all up in the parking lot when I was supposed to be dying in my car. Every single time something’s stopped me, something unconscious, like a sign that I’ve got some fight left in me. I told Betty I’d call if that ever changed and...tonight it did. I had the gun in my mouth and I didn’t feel anything at all. It felt like the most normal thing I’ve ever done. The gun didn’t scare me but realizing that did, so I put the gun down and I called you.”

“Like, immediately? Like it’s still…” Nausea engulfed Tony when the only thing he heard was Bruce cocking the gun. 

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck he’s really got a gun._

Tony knew he was freaking out but he tried to keep his physical reaction as subtle as possible. He glanced across the room and felt a little less nervous when he saw Steve was still hard at work on the schedule, probably still listening but not nearly as closely as before.

He knew what he was supposed to do next. He’d seen it happen before. Most people call the suicide hotline before they were actually a danger to themselves, but once in awhile someone would call on the brink of a real attempt. Like Bruce was. When a volunteer got one of those calls they were, without exception, to call 911. Not to arrest the caller but to make sure they wouldn’t harm themselves.

Tony always thought that logic was kind of fucked. The whole point of calling a hotline in the first place was the anonymity. People called when they didn’t have anyone else they could talk to and they put all their faith - literally their life, sometimes - into this voice on the phone because it’s supposed to be safe, confidential. Secretly calling the cops defeats the whole point, they find out they can’t trust the voice on the phone after all, and then what happens next time? Because if Bruce was right, there would probably be a next time.

Next time they won’t call. Because of what happened the last time they tried to reach out for help. Next time Tony wanted Bruce to call. Next time and the time after that, however many times he needed to, he wanted Bruce to know he could trust the voice on the phone. Tony had no intention of giving Bruce any reason not to trust him, so instead of calling 911, he tried to discuss the gun in Bruce’s lap without letting Steve catch on.

“Edward? Hello? You’re calling 911, aren’t you, goddammit. I knew I should’ve tried to find a payphone.”

“Hey, hold on. I’m not doing anything besides sitting here talking to you, okay? I promise.”

“Fine,” Bruce sighed. “I guess I’ll take your word for it. I mean, you know more about me than anyone, even more than Betty, so I should probably be able to trust you, right?”

“Right,” Tony said. “So...can you trust me when I tell you that eating a bullet is a really, really shitty idea?” Tony glanced up as Steve made a noise. He clearly wasn’t amused but, surprisingly, he stayed put.

“I...I guess,” Bruce said softly. “I’m...well, I’m not _okay_ now, I don’t think I ever really will be. And everything still sucks-”

“Not everything,” Tony said. “Remember? Falafel and physics and all the other stuff on your list. Those don’t suck.”

“Fine,” Bruce said. “Those don’t suck. _Most_ things still do but, you know what, you’re right. Thinking about dumb stuff like that actually does help a little bit. I’m not getting rid of the gun-”

“Bruce-”

“Hey, I’m living in my car, remember? I might be suicidal but I’m not an idiot. I need some way to defend myself out here.”

“And that’s the only reason…” Tony trailed off, watching Steve closely.

“Right now, yeah,” Bruce said. Tony only realized he’d been holding his breath waiting for Bruce’s answer when he smiled and exhaled loudly into the phone, which Bruce either hadn’t heard or ignored. “That’s the best I can do. I can’t promise it’ll stay that way.”

“Well, if it doesn’t, you’ll call back.”

“I...okay,” Bruce said after a beat. “I can do that.”

“Promise?”

“I already promised Betty.”

“Yeah, well, two promises are better than one. It’s harder to break two promises.”

“Fine, I promise,” Bruce said. He was hesitant but Tony had a feeling he meant it. “Oh, shit…”

“What’s wrong? Bruce?”

“No, nothing, It’s just...my phone. I didn’t get a chance to charge it today and it’s about to die.”

“Do you think you’re okay to…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Um...I...thanks. Thank you, Edward. It...you helped. A lot. I feel better. Don’t worry, I’m not going to…not tonight.”

“Not ever.”

“I can’t promise you that.”

“Promise me you’ll try?”

“...Yeah, okay. I’ll try. For you.”

“For _you_ , Bruce. Try for you.”

“...thank you, really. Again. Um. So, I guess...good night, Edward?”

“Good night, Bruce,” Tony replied softly, but the line was already dead. He hung up the phone and exhaled loudly. He realized his entire body was tense, tense enough that he knew he’d feel it in the morning. He heard Steve stand up and his heart started beating rapidly in anticipation of the lecture he was about to receive.

“I never would’ve pegged you as the type of person who could do this,” Steve said finally. He gave Tony an appraising look. “But I’ve gotta admit, Tony, you did a good job. With some training and a little more practice, you could do a lot of good here. At least give it a try?”

“Steve,” Tony said. “How the hell do you guys do this every day?”

“It’s draining, I know,” Steve said kindly. He laid a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder. If Tony had to guess, he’d say that Steve was around his own age, 25, give or take a few years, but something about Steve made him seem so much older. It made Tony uncomfortable and the only reason he didn’t shrug Steve’s hand away was his exhaustion.

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, you know.”

“Save the lecture, Steve,” Tony sighed. “All I did was answer the phone. Talk to Ian, he’s the one who fucked up the call forwarding.”

“You should’ve contacted one of us.”

“What was I supposed to say, hey Bruce, drop the gun and hang on while I find someone who actually knows what they’re doing?”

“Tony,” Steve said slowly, his hand tightening around Tony’s shoulder. “Did Bruce have a gun?”

“No,” Tony said lightly, after a beat, but Steve pounced on his momentary hesitation.

“Tony, this is serious. If a caller is in immediate danger, if they’re actively a danger to themselves, we are required to alert the authorities. It’s for the caller’s own safety. So I’m going to ask you again: Did Bruce have a gun?” Steve was leaning into Tony’s personal space now, his blue eyes not so gentle anymore.

“No, he didn’t,” Tony said firmly. He still didn’t feel bad about not calling. He was pretty sure Bruce was going to be okay, at least for the rest of the night, and calling 911 would only have given Bruce more reason to hate everything. 

Tony also wasn’t interested in finding out firsthand what Steve was like when he was really angry. 

“He was talking about it but he didn’t _have_ one. Like, in general, I’m pretty sure Bruce doesn’t have a gun, period.”

“Okay,” Steve said, finally relaxing his grip on Tony’s shoulder. Tony stood up and walked back over to his computer. The installation had finished while he was talking to Bruce but he was too exhausted to stay and test it out tonight. He shut down the computer, grabbed his phone and sunglasses, and turned back to Steve, who was now sitting at his desk putting all the things Tony had messed up back in order.

“So, good night,” Tony said abruptly. “Everything’s all set here and I’ll be by tomorrow for training.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said without looking up. “I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll be here around 2, probably. Then that’s it, I’m outta this place for good.” Tony’s mood lifted at the prospect.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve called, now looking at him. “I mean it. Think about volunteering. You’d do well.”

“Night, Steve,” Tony said as he walked out of the room. Checking his phone for the first time in over an hour, he discovered he had 16 texts and 2 missed calls from Rhodey. Rolling his eyes, he scrolled to the most recent messages.

_Night’s young man, don’t leave me hanging._

_Get ur ass over here, need my wingman. Stop being lame._

_Tony u gotta see the girls here holy shit._

_remember lucas with the accent? he says hi ;)_

_theres twins and they want u to come. cum. twins tony TWINS_

_tonyyyyyyyyyy u asshole_

_come on man can’t believe ur turning down TWINS_

_oh well more for me ur loss ;) ;)_

Tony’s finger hovered over the screen for a moment while he considered still meeting up with Rhodey. He could tell from the texts that Rhodey was in rare form and most of the time the idea of Rhodey having so much fun without him would make him jealous, but not tonight. Tony couldn’t stop himself from wondering about Bruce, where he was and if he was lying when he said he’d be okay. He wasn’t really in the mood to party.

_Still stuck here. You’re on your own, tell Lucas and the twins I say hello. Next time._

Tony put his phone back in his pocket and went home.

****

True to his word, Tony showed up at 2:15 the next day to test the new system and teach whoever showed up how to use it. His mind wandered toward Bruce whenever he looked at Steve’s desk, but the wondering only frustrated him because he knew he’d never find out what happened to Bruce.

By 4:30 everyone seemed to have a decent idea how to use the new system, even Steve, who was probably the least tech-savvy person Tony had ever met. He said his goodbyes and, after a firm handshake and a wink from Steve, a fistbump from Ian, a hug from Darcy (which Tony allowed despite his hatred of hugging because Darcy hugged everyone, absolutely not because of her fantastic boobs), and a promise that he’d come back the next time he was sentenced to community service, he finally walked out of the basement for the last time, already busy texting Rhodey.

Tony was still thinking about Bruce but, unsurprisingly, a few hours of drinking and flirting let him push the thoughts aside for the night, and he forgot about Bruce almost entirely sometime around when Rhodey introduced him to the twins.

A few days after the call, Tony was out with Rhodey again when he got a text from Steve. The message made Tony smile so broadly that Rhodey loudly assumed Lucas with the accent had actually answered Tony’s text.

_Hi Edward. Bruce called again. Wanted to say thanks & tell u you’re on his list??_

_Think about it Tony. We’d love to have u on board. Plus u owe me for messing up my desk._

Once he knew Bruce was okay, Tony mostly stopped thinking about him. From time to time something would remind him, usually something science related (and one time when he was eating a particularly awesome bacon cheeseburger), but his question had been answered and he had other, unsolved puzzles to attend to. He went on with his life and, after a few months, all the memories of his time at the suicide hotline, Bruce’s call included, faded from the forefront of his mind. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four months after the phone call, Tony unexpectedly encounters someone very familiar, but he can't seem to remember where they've crossed paths before. 
> 
> Tony figures it out when he learns the stranger's name and memories of that night at the hotline come flooding back, leaving Tony stunned and wondering how the hell he'd accidentally reconnected with Bruce, who was so similar yet so different than Tony remembered.
> 
> (Plus some Tony and Pepper banter because I can't help myself.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: talking about suicide/suicidal ideation (not nearly as explicitly as in the first chapter, though). Also, Tony is pretty ignorant about things like money and depression and real life.
> 
> Takes place four months after Chapter One.

Tony could count on one hand the number of times he’d shown up early for anything, and most of those times had more to do with someone else’s influence than his own behavior. So when he found himself at a Starbucks on the other side of town, all by himself, fifteen minutes before Pepper was due to show up for their meeting because Happy dropped him off too early, Tony had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to keep himself busy until she got there. 

All the tables were full so after he ordered his coffee, he hopped onto a seat at the counter while he waited for Pepper.

He briefly considered getting some work done, but all his plans for his new Stark Industries project - updating and miniaturizing the arc reactor technology his father had developed decades earlier to use as a potential clean energy source - were on his tablet which he was pretty sure he’d left in Pepper’s car again. Sighing, he started to play Candy Crush on his phone, but his attention kept wandering and he was starting to get antsy. He ended up abandoning the game before he even got through one level.

The store was very busy - the line was almost out the door - but there was only one other person sitting at the counter, all the way at the other end, against the wall. He was an employee - if the black polo hadn’t given him away, the green apron draped over the back of his chair would have made it obvious. His head was down and he was hunched over a library book. Tony craned his neck to try and see what book it was, mostly because he was nosy and bored and it gave him something to do. He realized it was _The Pluto Files_ by Neil deGrasse Tyson, which he’d recently re-read himself, and he suddenly knew how he was going to keep himself busy until Pepper showed up.

“I usually like Neil but he’s wrong about Pluto,” Tony said, relocating himself and his drink to the seat next to the man.

“Excuse me?”

“Pluto,” Tony said, nodding at the book. “Pluto’s a planet, at least it should still be one. Neil’s wrong.”

“Pluto,” the man sighed, carefully putting the book down without losing his page, “is a dwarf planet which is basically indistinguishable from any number of other large icy bodies in the outer Solar System, none of which have ever been considered planets.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “But it’s _Pluto_ , you can’t just dis Pluto like that.”

“Your argument is very convincing,” the man said, deadpan. There was something familiar about him, but Tony couldn’t figure out what it was. He wasn’t too concerned, though - he met a lot of people, how could he be expected to remember all of them? That’s what he had Pepper for.

“Plus, how is anyone supposed to remember all the planets now? My Very Excellent Mother Just Served Us Nine. Nine what? Not nine planets, that’s for sure. You see? Ditch Pluto and everything descends into total chaos.”

“You should share your thoughts with Dr. Tyson,” the man said, still straight-faced, marking his page and closing the book. “I’m sure he’d be fascinated.”

“He should be, I’m a fascinating guy.”

“Right,” the man chuckled, shaking his head. Something about the guy, not so much his face, his dark eyes and messy brown curls didn’t ring any bells, but something else, something about his demeanor, maybe, reminded Tony of _someone_ he still couldn’t place. 

“So,” Tony said before the man could pick up the book again. “Big astronomy fan?”

“I…” the man started, then trailed off. He avoided Tony’s eyes and started fidgeting with his coffee cup. “Not so much astronomy. More...well, any kind of science, really. I’ve always loved it.”

“Hey, me too,” Tony said, smiling. “Are you going to school? Or is the mad scientist thing just a hobby?”

“I didn’t…” the man started, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. “I was in school for awhile but I, uh…I had to drop out. Couldn’t afford it.”

“That sucks,” Tony said brightly, noticing the man’s obvious embarrassment a moment too late. “I mean...you can always go back and finish, you know. Just save up the money and…” 

Tony stopped talking when the man started laughing. His low, biting laugh was familiar too, in the same abstract way as the rest of him, and Tony was starting to get frustrated that he still couldn’t figure out who he was.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asked, a little defensively. It’s not like it was _his_ fault he’d never had to worry about being able to afford his own first-rate education (or, well, anything else, either).

“It’s nice, a nice idea,” the man said, his tone implying that he felt otherwise.

“Hey, it could happen,” Tony said stubbornly.

“So could a lot of things,” the man said, smirking. “Funny how the only people who still believe in the American Dream are the ones who ended up on the right side of it.”

“That’s not fair,” Tony started, but before he could argue his case (with an argument he was prepared to pull directly out of his ass), he was interrupted by someone knocking twice on the counter between him and the other man.

“Break’s over, big guy.” A red-haired woman who Tony assumed was the manager was standing behind the counter smiling a small, tight smile at the other man, who nodded and smiled his own, slightly crooked smile back. Her voice was warm, almost teasing and, after a quick side-eyed glance at Tony, she disappeared into the back room.

“So...nice talking to you,” the man said as he gathered his apron, his empty cup, and his book.

“You too,” Tony said. “I’m Tony, by the way.”

“I know.” The man tapped a finger against Tony’s cup where the barista had scrawled his name in thick dark letters.

“Oh,” Tony said. His eyes darted to the man’s apron, looking for a nametag that might help him identify this guy, but he came up empty. When it became clear that the man wasn’t going to volunteer his name, Tony stuck his hand out, offering a handshake. “And you?”

“Ah,” the man said, staring at Tony’s hand for a moment before gripping it awkwardly. “I’m Bruce.”

Tony froze. 

_No fucking way._

“Bruce,” Tony repeated, hardly noticing he’d spoken aloud. Bruce was already walking away but stopped and turned his head at his name.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry,” Tony said, shaking his head. “I...you remind me of someone, that’s all. Never mind.” Bruce looked at Tony for a moment, then shrugged and went back to work.

Tony’s mind was racing. He knew it was incredibly unlikely that the Bruce he just met was the Bruce from the phone call, but Tony _knew_ he’d encountered this guy before and it wasn’t his face that was familiar, it was his voice. The way this Bruce hesitated before he spoke about himself, his cynical inflection, and that dark, self-deprecating laugh had given Tony deja vu almost immediately, long before he’d learned Bruce’s name. This Bruce’s interest in science and his aborted education hadn’t seemed particularly remarkable at first, but combined with everything else... 

As impossible as it seemed for both Bruces to be one and the same, it would be one hell of a coincidence if Tony happened across two separate guys named Bruce who matched that profile.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice startled him out of his Bruce-induced fog. “I’ve got a table over here, come on.”

“On my way,” Tony replied without looking. He was still staring at Bruce who, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice. 

But someone else did and Tony actually shivered when he finally looked away from Bruce and found the manager who’d interrupted their conversation glaring at him from behind the counter. It was a glare that could rival Pepper’s which, coincidentally, was also being aimed in his direction, probably because he hadn’t taken so much as a step toward her table.

“Some of us have actual obligations that don’t revolve around you, you know,” Pepper said as Tony slid into his chair. 

“All your obligations are about me, Pepper,” Tony said, reaching across the table to grab the latte Pepper had ordered for him. He watched as Pepper pulled a thick folder of papers, an even thicker binder, and his lost tablet out of her bag. “Or at least they should be. So what’s all this?”

“I told you,” Pepper sighed. “These are the contracts and revisions Obadiah needs you to sign, these are all the notes, plans, and blueprints from your dad’s old arc reactor project, the ones that, I’m sure you remember, you specifically asked me to find for you as soon as possible. And this is the tablet you seem determined to lose. Now hurry up and start signing. I’ve got class in 45 minutes and, shockingly, my professor doesn’t consider ‘wrangling Tony Stark’ an acceptable excuse for showing up late all the time.”

“I hate to tell you this, Pep, but your professor is an idiot. You know, if Obie wanted my autograph so badly he could’ve just asked…” Pepper glared at him again and he got to work, initialing every single flagged line on every single fucking page. He had no idea what he was signing because, while he pretended to at least skim most of the documents, he was distracted by sneaking glances at Bruce whenever he could. 

He was almost convinced that the two Bruces were one and the same but something just wasn’t making sense. If Bruce had been telling the truth on the phone, if he really _was_ always thinking about killing himself, why the hell did he seem so normal in person? Tony didn’t know anyone else who was suicidal and if he didn’t already know better, he never would have suspected this Bruce ever was, especially not as recently as four months ago.

“That’s the longest I’ve heard you go without talking since I started working for you,” Pepper said once Tony was done signing. She gathered up the papers and traded Tony his tablet for her pen. “And you didn’t even chew up the end of my pen! Mr. Stark, I’m impressed. I should have Obadiah send you paperwork more often.”

“Not necessary, Ms. Potts,” Tony smiled. “Now get out of here before your professor puts a bounty on my head for keeping his best student out of class.” Pepper smiled a real smile, one that made her nose crunch up, not the patient, professional smile she usually wore, and flew out the door with her bag of books that probably weighed more than she did slung over her shoulder. 

Hugging the binder to his chest, Tony stole one last glance at Bruce. The store had slowed down while Tony was busy and there wasn’t a line anymore. Bruce was standing behind the counter, smiling and laughing with his coworkers, including the red-haired manager, and whatever he was saying only made everyone laugh even harder. How could someone smile and laugh that easily when, just a few months ago, he’d been low enough to stick a gun in his mouth and almost pull the trigger?

Tony shook his head. It didn’t make sense, that this Bruce was clearly a well-adjusted, happy, normal guy and the other Bruce was a desperate, suicidal mess, when the two Bruces were almost assuredly one and the same. 

Tony tossed his empty cup into the garbage and went outside where he couldn’t resist watching through the tinted window, trying to catch one more peek at Bruce before Happy brought the car around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who left kudos/comments - I was legitimately worried that nobody was going to read this, so every kudos/comment came as a delightful surprise! (And now I get to legitimately worry about the rest of it being boring/terrible/whatever because god forbid I not be neurotic about everything.) I'm trying to respond to comments but I'm historically terrible at that so...if I don't respond to your comment please know that I truly do appreciate any/all feedback, I'm just really bad at remembering to reply.
> 
> Right now, this is sitting at 24 chapters but I'm thinking it might go up or down a few either way. I'm going to try my best to update at least once a week, ideally more than that, but I make no promises because there's a lot of shit going down in my life and fanfiction, while a wonderful distraction, is pretty low on my list of priorities.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intrigued by Bruce, Tony tries to figure him out through a tried and true scientific technique: observation. 
> 
> It doesn't occur to Tony that becoming friends with his object of study might eventually lead to a pretty major conflict of interest.

Almost a week passed before Tony’s curiosity got the better of him and he drove himself back out to Bruce’s Starbucks. Bruce wasn’t there when Tony showed up and his first instinct was to leave, but he’d brought the binder of arc reactor notes with him and decided he might as well stick around and get some work done since he’d come all the way out there. About an hour later, Tony looked up and discovered that Bruce had apparently snuck in at one point and was standing behind the counter with his red-haired manager, both of them looking at Tony in turns and whispering to each other. The manager didn’t look any less annoyed to see him than she had last time, but Bruce’s glances in Tony’s direction seemed more inquisitive than anything else.

As soon as he was able to catch Bruce’s eye, Tony grinned. Bruce immediately ducked his head and turned away, prompting the manager to glare at Tony again. Tony shook his head and went back to his work, but his attention was divided and he eventually moved his chair to the other side of the table where it wouldn’t be so obvious how often he found himself looking up at Bruce. He was strangely pleased every time he caught Bruce looking his way.

He sat and watched Bruce for four hours but realized on the way home that he wasn’t any closer to figuring out if Bruce still wanted to kill himself and, if he did, how he could hide it so well.

Tony was almost positive both Bruces were the same guy, but he couldn’t even begin to make sense of the dramatic shift in personality Bruce had apparently undergone and thinking about it only gave Tony even more questions he didn’t know how to answer. He needed more information before he could form a hypothesis that might explain Bruce and, like any respectable scientist, he knew observation was the best way to collect data, so he decided he should drive back out to Bruce’s Starbucks again in the morning. For science.

Bruce’s Starbucks was pretty far out of Tony’s way - the only reason he’d been there in the first place was because its proximity to campus allowed Pepper to meet with him between classes - but he rarely bothered asking Happy to drive him. More often than not over the following weeks, Tony could be found slouched over his tablet at a table or perched on a chair at the counter, playing with his phone and trying to catch Bruce’s eye. Before long, Tony had more or less figured out Bruce’s schedule and planned his trips accordingly, which he realized seemed kind of creepy, so he made an effort to avoid showing up right as Bruce’s shifts started just in case Bruce (or his manager) thought Tony was stalking him or something.

At first, Bruce seemed wary of Tony and brushed off all of his attempts at conversation, but Tony persisted and after about a week, Bruce finally gave in and started talking to him. They mostly talked about science but sometimes their conversations strayed away from shop talk and toward friendlier matters; luckily, Tony’s poker face was well-practiced and he gave no indication that he’d already known most of what he was “learning” about Bruce for months.

Tony was fascinated by Bruce and he devoted more of his free time than he’d care to admit trying to figure him out. He couldn’t make sense of all his conflicting data, couldn’t identify enough connections between the two Bruces to satisfy his curiosity, and the resulting frustration only made Tony want to watch Bruce even closer, which he did without hesitation.

Before long, Tony became a fixture at Starbucks during almost all of Bruce’s shifts, oftentimes bringing his arc reactor notes with him so he had something to do when the store got busy and Bruce actually had to work. He started soliciting Bruce’s input, both because he knew how smart Bruce was (and even if Tony hadn’t already known, talking to Bruce for more than a few minutes was enough to clue him in) and because, just in case Bruce _was_ still depressed and really good at hiding it, it would probably make him happy to be taken seriously even as he was stuck making endless lattes. 

At first, Tony was worried he’d slip up and accidentally give himself away, which would probably piss Bruce off and would definitely ruin his chances of ever answering all of his Bruce-related questions, so he didn’t push his luck. Instead, he generally let Bruce direct their conversations, which meant they spent a lot of time talking science, and he made sure to tread lightly and keep all traces of Edward hidden away. Eventually, Bruce started to relax and talk more freely; once Tony discovered he genuinely enjoyed talking to Bruce regardless of the subject, he started getting a little less careful about avoiding certain topics of conversation.

“Hey Bruce,” Tony called out. He was sitting on one of the tall counter chairs with his feet propped up on another, a habit Bruce’s bitchy manager - whose name was Natasha and who was apparently Bruce’s roommate - had given up trying to break him of. Bruce had his back to Tony and was leaning over the sink to clean the blender. “You ever wonder why noble gases are so special?”

“No,” Bruce answered, turning around and wiping his wet hands on his apron. “Noble gases are odorless, colorless, and don’t produce much of a reaction to anything, including your awful fart jokes.”

“Fine, be super boring. Now you’ll never know the punch line, your loss.”

“Shot in the dark, it’s got something to do with noble gases coming out of royal asses, right?” Bruce smirked as Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “Knew it.”

“Who even asked you anyway?”

“The only other person here who’s nerdy enough to tell Periodic Table jokes, probably. You should go talk to him about it.” Bruce’s voice was drowned out by the noise of the blender running behind him. Tony waited for the blender to stop.

“Nah, that guy’s an asshole,” Tony said casually. He and Bruce had developed a rapport that Tony loved, and Bruce kept up with Tony’s smooth blend of sarcasm, narcissism, and self-deprecation just as easily as Pepper and Rhodey did. Unfortunately, the banter came so naturally to Tony that he sometimes forgot to pay attention to what he was saying. “I’ll just stay here and talk to this guy behind the counter. You should meet him sometime, I’m pretty sure he’s some kind of secret genius or something.”

Bruce laughed weakly as he quickly turned away, which confused Tony for the few seconds it took for him to catch up with himself, at which point he felt like a gigantic asshole because _seriously_? _The entire English language and you manage to pick the one goddamn word you KNOW sets Bruce off, what the fuck is wrong with you, Stark._

Bruce was standing awkwardly next to the espresso machine, fidgeting with a stack of cups and clearly trying to hide his discomfort. It wasn’t working very well and Tony didn’t know what to do. He wanted to apologize but Bruce didn’t know that Tony knew he had anything to apologize for and Tony intended to keep it that way.

“You okay over there?”

“I, uh, yeah. Yeah,” Bruce stammered. “I just, you know, work.” Bruce gestured behind him toward the register and Tony, for once, kept his mouth shut instead of pointing out that he was, at the moment, the only customer in the whole place. 

Bruce was suddenly very interested in wiping down the espresso machine again, so Tony shrugged and started playing with his phone. He watched Bruce work and silently marveled at how quickly Bruce had transformed into that voice on the phone right in front of Tony’s eyes. 

“Bruce.” Natasha appeared from the back room moments later. “Can you give me a hand with this shipment for a couple of minutes?”

Bruce’s relief was obvious and he practically sprinted to the back room, barely acknowledging Tony’s wave goodbye and not appearing to notice the dirty look Natasha gave Tony as she followed Bruce into the back. Tony hung around for a few more minutes in case Bruce surfaced in a better mood, but, unsurprisingly, there was no sign of him. To Tony’s displeasure, it was Natasha who took Bruce’s place behind the counter, where she stared Tony down until he eventually gave up and went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still beyond thankful for the comments/kudos/feedback (and still shit at responding to them). Seriously, I can't believe other people are interested in these AU idiot genius babies - hopefully the rest of this won't disappoint. 
> 
> If it hasn't already become glaringly obvious, I know NOTHING about science. Just throwing that out there, like a disclaimer or something.
> 
> I'm going to thank Renata again for playing thesaurus and for letting me throw chunks of words at her in the interest of quelling my neuroses via feedback and validation. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony does some thinking about his Bruce conundrum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of want to put a running disclaimer on this thing about Tony's understanding of depression/suicide/mental illness in general, namely that he doesn't. He's completely uneducated about any of it and, because he's Tony, he's absolutely convinced he knows what he's talking about.

Getting to know Bruce was like putting together a puzzle whose pieces were scattered everywhere. Assembling Bruce was proving to be deceptively difficult - some pieces looked like they should fit together but wouldn’t and some pieces didn’t seem to fit anywhere at all.

As it happened, Tony fucking loved puzzles, probably because he tended to be really, really good at them. Collecting all the pieces and trying to fit them into his partially constructed Bruce puzzle was equal parts fascinating and frustrating; there were plenty of things that lined up perfectly - Bruce’s voice, his way of speaking, his intelligence, his (incorrect) opinions on String Theory, his vegetarianism, and, of course, that dark, self-deprecating sense of humor. But as Tony got to know Bruce better, he realized that filling in the blanks and adjusting the misaligned bits to form the cohesive whole he was determined to uncover was getting harder by the day. 

The growing challenge only made the whole thing more exciting for Tony.

All those little mismatched pieces added up to one big conflict. Edward’s Bruce was miserable, suicidal, and had been like that for a very long time. This new Bruce, Tony’s Bruce...wasn’t. At least, not as far as Tony could tell, and he’d spent enough time studying Bruce that he was 99% sure there was no way Bruce could hide something that big. 

Sure, Bruce was awkward and shy at first and he didn’t really smile very much and once in awhile he’d have an off day or two, but there was no way he was actually depressed, not like the Bruce on the phone. This Bruce wasn’t _sad_. He came to work and talked to people and laughed and he was so funny, Bruce was one of the funniest people Tony knew (even including himself). Never in a million years could Tony picture this Bruce on the brink of suicide.

He couldn’t picture it but he knew it had happened. Just a few months earlier Bruce sat calmly in his car with a gun in his mouth, unafraid to pull the trigger and end it all. Just thinking about it made the hairs on the back of Tony’s neck stand up. If he hadn’t picked up the phone…

Edward talked Bruce out of it. Edward was the reason Bruce was still here for Tony to puzzle over, just Edward standing between Bruce’s brain and a bullet. Whatever happened to make Bruce change so dramatically in such a short time started with Edward - and, therefore, with Tony.

Tony still didn’t believe Bruce was secretly thinking about killing himself all the time or that he was hiding such severe depression. How could he be?

But if Tony was wrong…

Tony realized what he needed to do; he needed to watch Bruce even closer, study him more thoroughly, try his hardest to find that broken, desperate voice from the phone that was apparently hiding inside the Bruce Tony knew. 

And if he managed to uncover that dark version of Bruce lurking deep below this normal one? 

Well...Tony had already saved Bruce once, hadn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter's short, I kind of consider it more like Chapter 3.5 than anything, but here we are. 
> 
> I wanted to get this up days ago but I've been struggling with trying to make sure Tony doesn't come across like a sociopath. Because he's not. He's some combination of naive and arrogant and privileged and selfish which has left him almost completely lacking in actual, real-life social skills. His heart's in the right place most of the time, he's just not very good at acting on it. I hope that comes through in the story itself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony decides to try a new approach to getting Bruce to open up but ends up pushing him a little too far, which leads Tony to an unexpected - but not unwelcome - revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual warnings, talking about suicide/suicidal ideation, depression, I swear Tony's not a sociopath, he's just kind of an idiot about, you know, other people.
> 
> Maybe one day Tony WON'T make Bruce freak out while he's at work. (Today is not that day.)

“Hey, Tony. Earth to Tony,” Bruce said, leaning over to knock on the counter in front of Tony.

“Wha..?” Tony snapped to attention. He shook his head, hoping it would clear his mind.

“You okay over there?”

“Yeah, just spaced out for a second. Lot on my mind right now.”

“You _always_ have a lot on your mind,” Bruce said.

“More than usual,” Tony shrugged.

“Impossible. There aren’t even that many thoughts to be thought,” Bruce smirked. “Work stuff?”

“Yeah, mostly,” Tony said, hoping Bruce wouldn’t pry further. It was true Tony had a lot on his mind, work included, but it wasn’t work that was making him zone out. He couldn’t admit that to Bruce, though, without also telling him what the real reason was and, because the real reason was Bruce, Tony was more than happy to let it go.

“Still having that polarity issue?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. He’d actually solved that problem days ago but Bruce didn’t need to know that. “Sometimes it’s perfect, sometimes it’s fucked up, and I still can’t find a pattern or anything to explain it. And now Obie’s breathing down my neck, wants to know why it’s not finished yet.”

“Did you tell him it’s because you spend all your time distracting me and neither of us end up getting any work done?” Bruce refilled Tony’s cup with his usual, fresh-brewed dark roast, black. Tony hadn’t actually ordered anything but he rarely needed to - by now Bruce knew he drank the stuff like water and always refilled him when a new pot was ready.

“I did not,” Tony said. He sipped his drink despite its temperature and cringed when, predictably, he burned his tongue. Bruce went back to work and Tony watched him, still looking for some undefinable _something_ \- he didn’t know exactly what it was but he was sure he’d know it when he saw it - that would finally let him put all those mismatched puzzle pieces together.

Bruce was busy making two drinks at the espresso machine. Tony watched intently as he dumped hot espresso shots into the cups and carefully drained foam into the one on the right. He wiped a bit of dripped foam off the side the cup, put the lids on, slid the cups into cardboard sleeves, and called out the drinks as he set them on the counter. 

He lingered in front of the machine until Maria and Phil claimed their drinks (grande red eye and quad venti peppermint mocha, respectively), but before he could turn back to Tony, he was called over to help the new trainee (whose name was Donald but everyone called him Thor, probably because he looked like a surfer on steroids and had a laugh that could only be described as thundering) with something at the register.

Tony stopped watching. Everything about Bruce was so _normal_. Tony was pretty sure he could watch Bruce for a week and not see a single sign of depression, at least not anything more than he’d see in anyone else. 

****

Tony spent a few more days sitting at the counter watching Bruce and got nowhere. Admittedly, he did sometimes get so focused on whatever he and Bruce were talking about that he temporarily forgot the whole thing and didn’t pay a bit of attention to anything he was supposed to be watching for, but he was pretty sure that didn’t make much of a difference. Bruce was clearly trying to give Tony the impression he was just some normal, mild-mannered, well-adjusted guy and, if Tony hadn’t known better, he would have been easily convinced. 

Tony did notice one thing: Bruce was very careful not to do or say anything that might link him to his former self, the Bruce Edward knew. As much as Tony enjoyed chatting freely with Bruce about a wide range of topics - everything from books or movies they’d recently enjoyed to the Large Hadron Collider (and Tony’s seemingly endless collection of ‘hadron’ jokes) to the coffee robot Tony periodically threatened to build - he knew he had to find some way of encouraging Bruce to start opening up more. So far, Bruce had given no indication he would ever do so on his own, which left it up to Tony to try steering Bruce in the right direction. Maybe he needed to be a little more forward, ask some leading questions, if he was ever going to get any answers out of Bruce.

“Hey Bruce. You ever wonder if some people have, like, a totally secret inner personality? And everything everyone knows about them is all for show?”

Okay, so maybe that was a little _too_ forward.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Bruce’s posture stiffened noticeably but he stayed where he was, standing behind the counter directly across from Tony, and didn’t start fidgeting like he usually did when he was uncomfortable.

“Just wondering,” Tony shrugged. “Can’t a guy ponder the existential complexities of human nature over coffee once in awhile? ”

“Did you have some kind of sociological epiphany while I was on register or something?”

“Answer the question, Banner.”

“Fine. I think...well, isn’t everyone like that, to some degree? Everyone’s got something to hide.”

“Yeah, but that’s normal. I’m talking about _everything_ , like, you think you know someone but that’s not who they really are. The real part’s hidden. It’s kind of fucked up, actually, like, everyone you know, what if they’re all just faking everything? All those people wearing masks or something, costumes and shit, every day, and you never realize they’re all just a bunch of phonies. Shit, Bruce, just _think_ about it. Are you thinking about it? It’s fucked, right?”

“Slow down, Holden Caulfield,” Bruce laughed, shaking his head. “What’s with Philosophy 101 all of a sudden?”

“Still waiting for that answer.”

“Tony, it’s not…” Bruce paused, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples like Tony was giving him a headache. “Most of the time it’s not just black and white. There’s no line between what’s hidden and what’s not, it all kind of...overlaps, or bleeds together, I guess. But I’m pretty sure there aren’t too many people walking around faking _everything_ all the time.”

“Yeah, but…” Tony argued. “How do you _know_? I mean, how do I know you’re not hiding a whole different Bruce inside and this one’s just a costume?”

“I promise I’m actually me,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, don’t you think I’d come up with a better life than this if I was faking?”

“Hey, if you did that you never would’ve met me.”

“I also would’ve been spared this ridiculous conversation,” Bruce said, actually smiling instead of that half-smirking-half-smiling thing he usually did. “Seriously, where’d all that come from?”

“I was just thinking,” Tony said, keeping his eyes trained on Bruce’s face. “About how you can know a person but not really _know_ them. You think you know them but there’s something off; something doesn’t add up, doesn’t make sense. Almost like it’s two different people, one inside and one outside.”

“Like I said,” Bruce responded after a moment. “Everyone’s got something to hide, some people more than others. Sometimes people’s stories don’t add up because they don’t want them to. They...sometimes there’s things that should stay hidden. Permanently.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve got nothing to hide. Open book.” Tony leaned his chair back as far as he could without falling, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow at Bruce.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m serious!”

“Go read some Goffman, Tony,” Bruce laughed, shaking his head as he turned toward the espresso machine.

“What about you? What’re you hiding?” Tony blurted. He held his breath waiting for Bruce’s response, which would determine whether or not he regretted asking. Bruce froze. 

“If I told you then it wouldn’t be hidden anymore,” Bruce said, slowly turning back to Tony after a long pause.

“Kind of the point.”

“Tony…” Bruce sighed. “I...look, my secrets are secrets for a reason. It’s not personal, I don’t...some things I don’t talk about with anyone. Ever.”

“Well, maybe you should start. Keeping everything all bottled up inside like that isn’t healthy, you know.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Bruce rubbed his temples again and turned away. “ _If_ I was going to have this conversation it would not be while I’m at work. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not having this conversation _anywhere_. It’s not...I...there’s some things I don’t, um, think about if I don’t have to. It’s...I’ve been through a lot and it was hard enough to live through once. I’m not revisiting it just because you’re nosy.”

“Oh,” Tony said softly. Bruce’s voice sounded harsh and his entire demeanor had changed while he spoke; now he was tense, rigid, and his stance was defensive. His arms were crossed protectively over his chest and he kept glancing at Thor, probably to make sure he wasn’t listening (and, as Thor was keeping himself busy by playing the drums with his fingers against the top of the pastry display case, kind of keeping time with the music playing in the store, Tony thought it was pretty safe to say he wasn’t listening). When Bruce’s eyes weren’t darting toward the register they were focused on Tony; he wasn’t quite glaring but Tony still felt kind of intimidated. 

“Um. Sorry? I didn’t mean to…”

“Yeah,” Bruce said dismissively. He relaxed, dropping his arms, and grabbed the broom that was propped up against the wall. He kept talking as he started to sweep the floor. “It’s just, um...I don’t like talking about that kind of stuff.”

“Yup, picked up on that.” Tony paused to take a deep breath; he didn’t know why he suddenly felt compelled to keep talking, especially right after he’d already tested Bruce’s limits, and he hoped he wasn’t about to push Bruce too far. “But, uh, if you ever want to? Talk, I mean. I’m...well, you know where to find me. If you want. No pressure or anything, but, you know, if you don’t have anyone else or whatever. You can trust me, if you want to. And, uh...yeah. That’s it.”

Bruce was silent for a long, long minute. He’d stopped sweeping to listen to Tony and by the time Tony stopped talking Bruce was facing the wall again. He was standing still, head bowed, with one hand holding the broom and the other covering his eyes, and Tony started to worry he might have actually broken Bruce.

Getting no response from Bruce and feeling sufficiently awkward, Tony cleared his throat.

“So, I’m gonna head out, I guess.” He slid off his chair and stuffed his tablet back into his bag before he slung it over his shoulder.

“Wait, Tony,” Bruce finally said, turning to face him again. “You don’t have to…”

“No, I just realized how late it is,” Tony said, glancing down at his phone and wondering when the hell it got to be almost 8:45. “Bunch of shit to do before the R&D meeting tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Bruce said, looking almost disappointed. “Well. Um. Hey...thanks.”

“For what, giving you a panic attack?”

“ _No_ ,” Bruce said firmly. “You...for what you said. Nobody’s, um...you know. I don’t...I’m not used to, uh...that? Yeah. So. Uh. Thank you.” Bruce seemed to shrink into himself as he spoke and Tony felt almost as helpless as he’d felt on the phone all those months ago. This time, though, at least Bruce wasn’t just some anonymous voice Tony never thought he’d hear from again; this time Tony could offer his ongoing support and actually stick around in case Bruce ever decided to accept it. 

“Hey, I mean it,” Tony shrugged. “Part of the deal, the sweet benefits package you’re entitled to as my friend. No 401k or anything, but besides the hours of intellectually stimulating and/or witty conversation, there’s a bunch of free shit because, it’s been suggested, I might not be great at the whole ‘showing people I care’ thing in ways that don’t involve buying them kickass presents, lots of other cool crap, I dunno, I don’t have all night to go over the whole list, and, yeah, moral support or whatever you want to call it - I mean, we’re talking about _me_ , even I’ll admit I’ve got some pretty questionable morals - and I’m mostly shit at giving good advice - well, according to Pepper, and she’s usually right about stuff like that - but as far as sitting down and listening goes? _That_ I can do. Well, that I can do for certain people, yourself included, and yes, you should feel honored, Banner, it’s a very exclusive perk and trust me, you’re in really good company.”

“Tony…” Bruce stood still, holding the broom at his side and staring incredulously at Tony.

“Yeah? It’s a lot to take in, I know, I’ll get you a cheat sheet. But you get the point.”

“I, uh...it’s...you...yeah. Um. Good night, Tony.”

“Good night, Bruce. See you soon.” Tony glanced over his shoulder on his way out. Bruce was still holding the broom but not sweeping; instead, his head was bowed and he was scratching the back of his neck. 

Tony got into his car but, instead of starting it, he slumped back in his seat and sighed. Well, he’d got what he wanted, hadn’t he? He’d found more than a few traces of Edward’s Bruce and he’d drawn them out despite Bruce’s best efforts to keep that side of himself hidden. All the pieces were starting to come together and Tony knew he was much closer to making sense of Bruce.

His progress should’ve made him feel invigorated, driven to keep pushing, keep poking and prodding until he found everything he was looking for, until he accomplished what he’d set out to do. Until he solved the puzzle. 

Instead, Tony mostly just felt sad. 

As sure as he was that the two Bruces were the same, he’d apparently been holding out hope, deep down somewhere, that he was wrong, that the Bruce he knew wasn’t the Bruce on the phone, that it was all just a huge, unlikely (but not impossible!) coincidence. Even as the evidence mounted against it, some part of Tony still desperately wanted to believe that this Bruce, _his_ Bruce, had never been so depressed he wanted to kill himself. 

Tony had told Bruce he could talk to him, even trust him, because Tony knew getting closer to Bruce was the best chance he had at ever answering even half of the questions still fueling his curiosity. Tony also knew that, if Bruce opened up to him as much as he had to Edward, Tony would be uniquely qualified (and possibly obligated) to continue what Edward had started when he talked Bruce out of shooting himself that night. 

Tony knew his intentions were good when he offered Bruce his support. What Tony didn’t know until later, until he was sitting in his car in the dark Starbucks parking lot too lost in his own thoughts to drive home, was that he’d meant every last word of it.

But he did, he meant all of it because, and Tony wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, he and Bruce had become friends. Not just acquaintances, not just a barista and one of his regulars, but actual _friends_. Tony knew it should have felt weird, maybe even wrong, to be grouping Bruce together with Pepper and Happy and Rhodey, to offer Bruce his support and actually _mean it_ , but, oddly, it only felt like the right, natural thing to do. He wasn’t sure if it was only that he’d had a head start getting to know Bruce or if he and Bruce were just that compatible but it didn’t much matter. Regardless of the reason, Bruce was his friend.

This new development presented somewhat of a problem: Tony wasn’t supposed to be Bruce’s friend. As a rule, Tony didn’t make friends. Tony flirted and fucked and fraternized with plenty of people, but his friendship only extended as far as Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy. And now, apparently, Bruce, too. 

Tony was just supposed to be watching Bruce, looking for clues and analyzing data, not letting Bruce sneak up on him and make him actually _care_. 

Accidentally befriending his research subject was never part of Tony’s plan. 

But even Tony Stark’s plans could be subject to change and, in this case, Tony was willing to be flexible now that he realized he _wanted_ to be Bruce’s friend. He recognized the obvious conflict of interest, but he and Bruce were already kind of friends and there hadn’t been any problems; Tony didn’t see any reason why that had to change. 

Well, there was one reason.

If Bruce found out about the phone call, Tony had a feeling it would screw up his research and their friendship, neither of which he had any intention of losing. Luckily, the chances of Bruce figuring out the truth were next to nothing as long as Tony didn’t give himself away. He knew that would never happen because, despite his outspoken nature, Tony was really good at keeping secrets.

Satisfied, Tony finally started the car and headed home, confident that he could continue studying Bruce while also being his friend and, at the same time, keep making sure Bruce never so much as suspected Edward's true identity. If he could pull that off - and _of course_ he could, he's Tony Fucking Stark - he'd have Bruce all figured out in no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were curious, Tony's coffee robot is the product of this thing [Renata](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/) and I do, where we imagine ways our lives would be better if we were BFFs with Tony Stark. At least 50% of these life improvements involve a coffee robot (we're not sure if the robot actually makes coffee or just brings it to you, I'd take either one tbh). 
> 
> You'd think with all this snow I could've taken the opportunity to update faster, but instead I apparently chose to experiment with new and exciting methods of procrastination (dicking around on Spotify! stupid Buzzfeed quizzes! trying to stop my small dog from jumping into 2+ feet of snow every time I take him out!) and felt the need to nitpick every single fucking word of this chapter (I wish I was exaggerating) because I'm a neurotic perfectionist. So. Yeah. Hoping that y'all have less trouble reading this chapter than I had writing it! 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading/commenting/caring!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fueled by a mess of good intentions (and realizing that the two Bruces might not be so different after all), Tony starts to figure out how to be friends with Bruce Banner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: the usual - depression, talking about suicide/suicidal ideation, Tony being an idiot.

At one point shortly after his realization in the Starbucks parking lot it occurred to Tony that, now that they were friends, secretly observing and analyzing Bruce might seem a little...weird. Maybe even a tiny bit creepy, if he thought about it too hard. But Tony didn’t see it that way; he just wanted to _understand_ Bruce, figure out how and why he’d changed so dramatically and try to make sure he never felt that low again, now more than ever, because they were friends and isn’t that what friendship’s all about, understanding and caring and a bunch of other crap that made Tony feel vaguely uncomfortable? Tony could use his research for good, not only to satisfy his own curiosity, but also to try to be the kind of friend Bruce so sorely needed. That wasn’t creepy at all, and Tony was pretty sure Bruce would agree, especially if he heard Tony’s explanation. 

He still wasn’t going to tell, though. Bruce might be kind of pissed Tony never said anything and, at this point, they’d spent so much time together that bringing it up would just be awkward.

Besides, what Bruce didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

So Tony kept his secret to himself and even though he still didn’t understand how or why, he was mostly convinced that Bruce was okay now. His depression and his desire to kill himself were behind him, forgotten along with the rest of the old life he never talked about. Bruce had a new life now, and there was nothing for him to be depressed about anymore. Tony counted every smile, laugh, joke, and sarcastic comment as proof that the old, miserable Bruce was gone forever. 

Bruce usually seemed so normal that, most of the time, Tony actually forgot about the phone call and his experiment, at least while he was with Bruce. (He didn’t forget when he _wasn’t_ with Bruce, though, and he spent a lot of his downtime thinking about it, enough that Pepper noticed he was more distracted than usual. Tony wasn’t sure why but he didn’t want to tell anyone about Bruce, not even Pepper or Rhodey, and she didn’t seem convinced when he blamed his preoccupation on Obie’s pointless restructuring of R &D but she let it slide.) 

Sometimes, though, Tony couldn’t forget. Sometimes he’d look at Bruce and catch, just for a second, an expression that made his stomach drop; something about Bruce’s eyes, dark and distant and tired, would send Tony’s mind careening toward a disturbingly clear image of how Bruce must have looked in his car that night.

As confident as Tony was that Bruce was okay now, he couldn’t be completely sure because once in a while, seemingly out of nowhere, he’d catch a glimpse of that look in Bruce’s eye and he’d be reminded of what Bruce told Edward about suicide. How, even when he wasn’t actually suicidal, Bruce was always thinking about killing himself, every single day. If Tony was right and Bruce _was_ better now, maybe that wasn’t true anymore. Bruce certainly didn’t seem like he thought about suicide all the time, but sometimes Tony wondered if maybe Bruce was just a much better actor than he let on.

****

As far as Tony could tell, Bruce was having another one of his low days, at least his third in a row - he was quieter than usual, he looked exhausted, and his pained, distant expression had been more than fleeting over the four hours since Tony got to Starbucks. He seemed so distracted and down that Tony bailed on his plans with Rhodey and practically dragged Bruce to a diner after work.

“Everything okay, Banner?” Tony asked once they were settled into their booth. 

“Uh...yeah, I’m fine,” Bruce mumbled, fussing with his sleeves instead of looking at Tony.

“Because it seems like something’s been wrong all day. Actually, scratch that, it seems like something’s been wrong all week.”

“I…” Bruce looked up, seeming surprised Tony had noticed. “No, it’s just, um, work stuff, you know. No big deal.”

“Is Thor bothering you? I’ll kick his ass, just say the word.”

“Thor would flatten you.”

“I’ll pay someone to kick his ass, then. Seriously, Bruce, you listen to me bitch about, like, every single thing that pisses me off every day - just trying to return the favor.”

“Tony, it’s nothing, I swear. I’m just...I’m tired, that’s all.”

“You’re always tired.”

“I haven’t been sleeping very well,” Bruce said, shrugging. “Not a big deal.”

“Hi Tony. Just the two of you tonight?” Skye, one of Tony’s regular waitresses, interrupted, smiling broadly at Tony. He nodded and she looked disappointed for a split second - because Skye had the world’s most obvious crush on Rhodey and had clearly been hoping he’d be joining Tony soon - but recovered almost immediately. “Your usual?”

“Yeah, and iced tea. How about you, Bruce? What’s for dinner, a head of lettuce on a bed of tofu?”

“Um...I’m not really hungry...I’ll just get tea.”

“Bruce,” Tony said gently, leaning over the table toward him. “Tea isn’t dinner, buddy.” Bruce grunted and sunk down in his seat. Tony turned back to Skye. “He doesn’t eat meat, do you have something that’s not totally disgusting for him?”

“The grilled veggie wrap is very popular,” Skye said. “It’s really good, too. Not even a little disgusting.”

“Perfect,” Tony said, leaning back and clapping his hands together. “You want fries or anything?”

“No,” Bruce muttered. “I’m still getting tea, though. Green?”

“Of course. Separate checks tonight or…”

“Seriously, Skye?” 

“Right, habit. Sorry. I’ll be back in a minute with those drinks.” Skye winked at Tony, then headed for the kitchen.

Bruce was still slouched down in his seat with his arms crossed, stubbornly avoiding eye contact, and Tony wondered again what was behind Bruce’s worsening mood.

“I’m really not hungry,” Bruce said, finally dropping his arms.

“You didn’t eat lunch,” Tony stated evenly. “And I’m willing to bet you didn’t have breakfast either.” Bruce’s only response was to sink further into his seat. 

Skye returned with their drinks before Tony could continue badgering Bruce. She disappeared quickly after an uneasy glance at Bruce and Tony honestly didn’t blame her for not sticking around to chat like she usually did. Bruce was making it very, very clear that he wanted to be left alone; if his posture and his scowl weren’t enough, the tension he seemed to be radiating was thick enough that even Tony felt it choking him, and Tony was at the table by choice. Hoping to give Bruce a moment or two to relax, Tony let him prepare his tea before starting in again.

“Bruce, c’mon, you gotta eat. You can’t starve yourself or whatever you’re trying to do.”

“I’m not trying to do anything,” Bruce snapped, finally looking at Tony. “I told you, it’s not a big deal. This happens once in awhile, I have trouble sleeping and I don’t feel like eating for a couple of days, that’s it. There’s nothing to explain, it’s just how I am and anyway, it’s not like you’d even understand.”

“Really.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’m brilliant, remember? Don’t underestimate my capacity for understanding things.”

“Tony,” Bruce sighed, sipping his tea. His voice grew quiet and bitter. “Why do you care so much about some random guy who makes your coffee anyway?”

“You’re talking about Thor again, right? Because, nothing against the guy, but I really don’t give a shit,” Tony said lightly, hoping he’d get at least half a smile out of Bruce. He wasn’t surprised when he received absolutely no response. 

Normally, Tony would’ve attempted to lighten things up with some kind of physical contact, perhaps playfully poking Bruce in the ribs or tousling his hair, but he reluctantly kept his hands to himself; Bruce looked so dejected that it seemed like even a friendly touch might actually break him.

“Bruce, I care because I don’t like it when my friends are upset. Maybe if you’d talk to me I could...I don’t know, help, I guess. Try to cheer you up, at least. That’s what friends are for, right?” Tony paused when a terrible thought occurred to him. He hoped saying it out loud wouldn’t make it come true. “Unless...we are, like, _friends_ now...right? I’m not just--”

“No,” Bruce said quickly. He paused. “I mean, yeah, we are. Friends. I’m just not used to...well, friends, I guess.”

“Hey, so what?” Tony said, smiling. “I’ve only got, like, three friends, and two of them get paid to hang out with me. This whole ‘making new friends’ thing is weird for me, too.”

“Really?” Bruce asked, relaxing considerably. A hint of a smile appeared on his face and Tony was so relieved he grinned.

“Really,” Tony confirmed. “So, yeah, as your friend, I’m concerned because you’re not eating or sleeping and you’ve been really sad and quiet all week and I get the impression you think nobody gives a shit despite the fact that, hello, I’m _right here_ , literally right in front of you, and I’ve got plenty of shits to give, you just won’t let me. That _is_ what’s happening here, right?”

“Not…” Bruce started. Then he smiled. “Yeah, basically.”

“Excellent. Well, not excellent that you feel like that, obviously, just excellent that I was right. And that you actually gave me a real answer instead of deflecting which, by the way, you are really really good at.”

“I know, it’s on my resume,” Bruce smirked. “Skills include latte-slinging and deflection.” 

“And you truly excel at both,” Tony grinned. Bruce smiled sheepishly and Tony could barely stop himself from reaching across the table to tousle Bruce’s hair. Instead, he absentmindedly drummed his hands on the table and looked around. “Hey, where the hell is our food? Maybe you’re not hungry but I’m starving.” 

As if on cue, Skye emerged from the kitchen expertly balancing a tray on one arm. She brought them their food (plus another iced tea for Tony), gave Bruce a little smile when he thanked her, and moved on to take another table’s order.

“Bruce, man, you’re missing out,” Tony said as he poured ketchup on his burger. He moved onto his fries, filling a corner of his plate with a pool of ketchup for dipping. “Bacon cheeseburgers are basically manna from heaven. I don’t think it’s possible to have one and still be in a bad mood.”

Tony realized what he was saying a second too late to stop himself. He froze and, holding his breath, looked up. Bruce was staring at Tony with an odd expression on his face, something strange Tony couldn’t identify, but then, after a long moment, Bruce rolled his eyes and Tony could breathe again.

“I’ll live.”

“Your loss,” Tony shrugged, taking a big enough bite of his burger that ketchup dripped out the opposite side of the bun and all over his fingers (which he promptly licked clean) before moving onto his pickle spear, which he devoured in two bites. He looked over to Bruce and found him poking at his wrap with his fork. “I didn’t order that for you to dissect, you know. The only science that wrap is going to be involved in is the digestive process.” Bruce smirked and pointedly stabbed a piece of zucchini with his fork. He made a big show of eating it, chewing slowly and dramatically, and he licked his lips theatrically when he was done.

“Was that so hard?”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bruce replied, eyeing his plate with interest. “Eat your heavenly burger.” Bruce picked up half the wrap and cautiously raised it to his mouth. He took a small bite, then a larger one.

“Not hungry?” Tony smirked.

“Shut up.” Bruce took another bite and the wrap fell apart, the veggies dropping all over his plate. He shrugged, picked up his fork, and started eating them one by one. Tony watched Bruce eat for a minute before he cautiously reached across the table to steal Bruce’s untouched pickle. Before he actually took it, he looked at Bruce, who nodded and rolled his eyes as Tony triumphantly claimed the pickle as his own. He ate it immediately.

A little while later, Bruce stole a handful of fries from Tony’s plate. He glanced at Tony like he expected to be reprimanded, but Tony simply smiled and passed him the ketchup.

Tony avoided further questioning Bruce about his bad mood during dinner because he figured Bruce would probably feel better if he could enjoy himself and forget about his problems for a little while. If anything, at least Bruce was eating; he actually ended up finishing most of his wrap and about a third of Tony’s fries.

After paying the bill and arguing over who should leave the tip (Tony let Bruce win and then snuck a twenty in his wallet while he was in the bathroom), they walked out to their cars together.

“Hey, uh…” Bruce said, leaning on his car and kicking a few pebbles around. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Anytime,” Tony said. He watched Bruce for a second. “Feeling better?”

“I…” Bruce started. He stopped kicking and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, still looking at the ground. “I had a good time.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“Tony, it’s...it’s not that easy. I can’t explain it but...it’s just not. Sorry.”

“But Bruce,” Tony said helplessly. He thought for sure Bruce was feeling better after their dinner but here he was, immediately back in his funk. Bruce had told Edward that he could have a good time just like anyone else but even that wouldn’t stop his suicidal thoughts. If Bruce really was always thinking about killing himself, even when he felt okay, Tony didn’t want to imagine how much worse it must be during one of his funks.

“Don’t...I, um, it’s not...I just have to, you know, wait it out. I’ll be okay, I’ve, uh...well, I’ve made it through worse. It happens. But...you, um, you tried to help and that’s...I really appreciate that, Tony. Really. Thanks.” Bruce cleared his throat and fumbled in his pocket for his keys. “So.”

“Let’s do this again,” Tony decided. “It can be, like, a thing. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Bruce answered quickly.

“Great,” Tony smiled. He tossed his keys up in the air and caught them easily. “So, I’ll see you soon, maybe tomorrow if Obie doesn’t murder me for blowing off his bullshit meetings. And, um, you know. Feel better or whatever.”

“I...I’ll try,” Bruce said softly. “See you.”

“Good night, Bruce.”

“Good night, Tony,” Bruce gave Tony a small, stilted wave and the tiniest of smiles. Tony waved back, then stood by and watched Bruce drive away. 

He briefly considered meeting up with Rhodey but decided against it; as relieved as he was that Bruce had eaten dinner and had a good time, Tony still felt too weird (and even a little anxious) to go out because he couldn’t stop thinking about Edward’s Bruce and his constant, unrelenting suicidal thoughts. When Tony looked at this Bruce, _his_ Bruce, he couldn’t imagine his friend trying to kill himself over and over again, like Tony knew he had. 

Even trying to picture that felt wrong, almost like Tony was insulting Bruce by associating him with such desperation and misery. He thought about his experiment for the first time in days and realized that, despite all the hours he’d spent with Bruce, he still couldn’t figure out how and why Bruce had changed so drastically in such a short period of time. He’d managed to find traces of that voice on the phone in Bruce, enough to know that he hadn’t changed as fully as Tony had assumed at first. But something was fundamentally different about Bruce, something that kept Tony wondering and observing and analyzing, and Tony didn’t know what it was but he knew it had started with Edward.

Of course Bruce didn’t know the truth about Edward and Tony was more convinced than ever that he didn’t need to. Tony alone had seen both sides of Bruce, knew the traumatic past that had somehow turned Bruce into the unassuming, brilliant man who quietly commanded so much of Tony’s attention, so Tony alone could...do something. Somehow continue what Edward had started. If Tony could help Bruce even half as much as Edward had, _how_ it happened wouldn’t matter; the important thing was maybe Bruce wouldn’t have to just ‘make it through’ his funks anymore. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to make it through them alone.

****  
Just as Bruce had predicted, his mood slowly leveled out and by the time they went to the diner again - just over a week later - he seemed back to his usual self. Tony wasn’t sure how much of that had to do with his influence but he felt satisfied nonetheless and, before long, he started forgetting about Edward and the phone call again. Not completely, of course, but Edward had become a distinct personality with memories separate from Tony’s own and, as long as Bruce wasn’t feeling too down, Tony could (and did) easily let himself believe that the call, the experiment, all of it was simply part of someone else’s story.

He still had to be careful, of course, because even if he forgot why, he knew much more about Bruce than Bruce was aware. As certain as Tony was that Bruce would understand his intentions, there was always a chance that Bruce might be mad at him for not telling. Making Bruce mad was absolutely not something a good friend should do and, because Tony was determined to be a good friend, he never doubted his decision to keep the secret of Edward’s true identity exactly that: a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I wanted to have this chapter up a week ago but that very clearly didn't happen because life is kind of kicking my ass all over the place and I haven't had very much time/energy/etc to spend on fic lately :(
> 
> Still aiming for updating at least once a week but if shit continues to go down as it has been (and, spoiler alert, it's probably going to) there's a pretty good chance it'll be less frequent than that, sadly. I'll do my best, I promise. 
> 
> As always, thank y'all so much for your comments/kudos/hits! I hate to be cheesy or whatever but that kind of stuff can honestly, truly make my day - so thank you <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony starts to realize - with a little help from his friends - that Bruce's role in Tony's life is a lot more significant than Tony thought it was. 
> 
> Tony has no idea how he feels about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: same as always. References to depression/suicidal ideation, mostly.

“He’s not coming in today,” Natasha said casually, staring at Tony in that unnerving, creepy way she always did.

“Wait, what?” Tony looked up from his game of Flappy Bird as soon as he processed Natasha’s words. “I thought he was on at 1:00?”

“He was,” she said. “But he’s out sick.”

“Sick?” Tony said, mentally cataloging his interactions with Bruce over the past several days. As far as he could tell, Bruce had been feeling fine all week...except yesterday. He’d been unusually quiet yesterday, he claimed nothing was wrong but he just seemed...off. Not off enough to warrant calling out of work, but Tony found himself nervous anyway. “Is he okay? He’s not...he’s okay, right?”

“Food poisoning,” Natasha said slowly, now eyeing Tony with her head cocked slightly to one side. “He and Clint were both up all night puking.”

“Oh,” Tony said, much more relieved than he had any reason to be. “That sucks. Tell him I said feel better?”

“I will,” Natasha replied. Tony had a feeling she actually meant it.

“Well, then, as much as I’d love to stay and chat with you, I’m gonna go,” Tony said, hopping down from his chair. 

“Right,” Natasha said, still watching him closely. “Stark.”

“Yeah?”

“Why…” Natasha paused and apparently thought better of whatever she’d been about to ask. “Never mind.”

“...okay?” Tony shrugged. He headed for the door, stopping to fist-bump Thor as he passed by, and he didn’t need to turn around to know Natasha was still watching his every move. He felt her stare on him long after he drove away.

Finding himself with nothing to do on his unexpectedly free afternoon, Tony decided he might as well put in an appearance at the office; Pepper had been bugging him for more than a week to stop by and take care of some of the paperwork piling up on his desk so he figured he might as well get it over with while he was already out.

“Am I dreaming or has the elusive Tony Stark finally decided to grace us with his presence?” 

“Obie,” Tony said, rolling his eyes as he waited for Obie to catch up with him.

“And to what do we lowly peasants owe the pleasure?”

“I was around, figured I’d stop by,” Tony shrugged. “Hey, did you get a chance to look at that stuff I sent you?”

“I’m a busy man, Tony. We can’t all have as much free time to waste on side projects as you do,” Obie said, resting a heavy arm across Tony’s shoulders. “But yes, I looked it over.”

“And?”

“Tony, my boy,” Obie said knowingly, shaking Tony’s shoulder. “Your father gave up on the arc reactor for a reason. Making it smaller isn’t going to make it work any better.”

“C’mon Obie, just think about it,” Tony argued, shrugging Obie’s arm away. “Miniaturizing it’s the key, makes it portable. Forget weapons, the future’s all about _energy_ , clean energy, and this is gonna put Stark Industries - or at least me - miles ahead of everyone else.”

“Whatever you say, Tony. You’re the genius here, not me,” Obie laughed, shaking his head. He patted Tony hard on the back and started to walk away but stopped and looked back at Tony before he got very far. “Oh, Tony? Make sure you keep your hands off that girl of yours. You finally found one who actually knows what she’s doing and it’d be a shame to lose her because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“What? I’m not gonna sleep with Pepper. She’s my assistant.”

“That didn’t stop you with the blonde-”

“Christine.”

“Or the Oriental gal-”

“Jesus, Obie, _rugs_ are Oriental. Kim is Korean.”

“Whatever. Or what’s his name, Lenny?”

“Leo,” Tony corrected. “Okay, fine, so maybe there’s a precedent. But Pepper’s different. Besides, she’d probably skin me alive for even thinking about it.”

“Good for her,” Obie laughed, starting to walk away again. “Maybe she’ll last longer than six months.”

“Pepper’s been working for me for a year and a half, Obie,” Tony called after Obie’s retreating figure. 

“A year and a half and not one sexual harassment complaint? If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re actually growing up, kiddo.” Obie turned a corner and was gone before Tony could reply. 

After he lost sight of Obie, Tony turned back and made his way to the elevator. The walk took at least twice as long as it should have because he kept getting stopped by employees who were very surprised to see him, which struck him as odd because he had no idea who any of them were and, seriously, he was just there like...a couple of weeks ago. Maybe a month, tops. 

He knew for sure he’d come by that time Bruce was supposed to work the day shift but Thor asked him to switch at the last minute and Tony wound up with a ton of time to kill because he’d shown up at Starbucks at 10:00 not knowing Bruce wouldn’t be in until 3:00. That was also the day Bruce got his stupid haircut (and Tony would never take back his assertion that Bruce resembled a freshly-shorn sheep with his hair that short, no matter how many times Bruce tried to guilt him into apologizing) and, since Bruce’s hair was finally starting to look normal again, Tony estimated that he’d definitely stopped by the office about six weeks ago. 

He had to have come by since then; at least, he was pretty sure it hadn’t been that long. Still, it wasn’t like he wasn’t working, he was just working from home most of the time, and maybe people should mind their own goddamn business once in awhile and stop acting like they’d spotted Jimmy Hoffa or Bigfoot or something when they saw Tony walking down the hall. (Tony did, however, enjoy watching the girl in the elevator not-so-subtly try to take a selfie that coincidentally happened to have him in the background. She almost dropped her phone when he snuck up behind her and grinned over her shoulder on her fourth attempt.)

Anyway, even if his Starbucks time had been cutting into his office time, Pepper was there at least every other day and that totally counted. Tony wasn’t at all surprised to find his office door unlocked, the lights on, and Pepper sitting at the computer, too engrossed in whatever she was doing to notice Tony until he was practically leaning against the desk.

“Tony?” 

“Hey Pep,” Tony replied, dropping his bag onto a chair as he made his way around to the back of the desk. “Whatcha doing?”

“Working. What are _you_ doing here?”

“You too? I work here, you know. This is my office, my name’s on the door and everything, so I don’t get why everyone’s so surprised to see me.”

“Probably because you only come in when you absolutely have to. But I know your schedule’s clear for today and yet, here you are.” Pepper rolled the chair back and stood up. Tony immediately took her place in the chair, spinning himself around a few times before leaning back and propping his feet up on his desk.

“Here I am,” Tony agreed. “I was in the area, had some time to kill, you know how it goes.”

“Sure,” Pepper said, carefully moving Tony’s bag from the chair to the floor before taking a seat. “Make sure Obadiah knows you’re here, he’s been driving me crazy about getting you to come in.”

“Already ran into him downstairs.”

“Good,” Pepper nodded. “Maybe now he’ll leave me alone for a little while. Even just a week, seven whole days without seeing his name come up on my phone would be like a vacation.”

“Was that a hint, Ms. Potts? If you want a vacation just say the word. Anywhere you want, I’ll make it happen.”

“You mean _I’ll_ make it happen,” Pepper laughed.

“With my credit card,” Tony pointed out, smirking.

“Well, since you’re offering…” Pepper smiled. “That’s quite generous of you, Mr. Stark.”

“What can I say, I’m a goddamn philanthropist. Seriously, though, you get vacation time, you might as well use it. Take a week or two and go to Hawaii or something.”

“Not Hawaii, I hate the beach. Anyway, I’ve got school, remember? I can’t just leave for two weeks in the middle of the semester.”

“Pfft, they’ll get over it,” Tony said. 

“Not so sure about that. Besides, I don’t think you’d last two days without me, let alone two weeks.”

“Below the belt, Ms. Potts. I’m an adult, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Tony crossed his arms and glared at Pepper until she rolled her eyes. 

“Really? What’s your Social Security number?”

“I…” Tony trailed off. He wouldn’t have thought Pepper was capable of gloating but here she was, presenting some pretty compelling evidence to the contrary. “Five.”

“Five,” Pepper repeated.

“It’s possible I’m missing a few numbers,” Tony admitted. 

“Just a few,” Pepper smirked. “I’ll send you the rest on a postcard. Now can I have my seat back? Unlike some people, I have actual work I need to finish.”

“ _Your_ seat?” Tony asked, but he pushed himself away from the desk, spun around again, and stood up. “You never told me what you’re doing, you know.”

“Homework,” Pepper said, slipping past Tony and sitting down. “And before you say anything, yes, I’m doing my homework on your time, deal with it.”

“Like I give a shit,” Tony scoffed. Then he noticed a potted plant, some kind of fern thing with flowers, sitting right in the middle of the bookshelf behind him. He examined it for a moment, then cleared his throat. “This, though? Unacceptable.”

“It’s been there for months,” Pepper said, not looking up from her notes. “Clearly it’s not bothering you _that_ much.”

“I could be allergic, Pepper. What if I had an allergy? I could go into anaphylactic shock any second here! You’re endangering my health with this thing.”

“I think you’ll live.” Pepper still didn’t look up from her notes. “Do you need something or are you hovering over my shoulder because you know how much I hate it when you do that?”

“You love it, don’t lie,” Tony said, backing away from Pepper. He glared at the plant again, then wandered around to the front of the desk. Pepper was typing rapidly and the sound of her fingers hitting the keys was almost rhythmic, enough to draw Tony’s attention away from any other noises, including the door opening behind him.

“Pepper, are you ready to…” Happy called, walking through the door. He stopped as soon as he saw Tony.

“Oh, hey Happy,” Tony said. When Happy didn’t reply, Tony looked up and found Happy frowning at him. “Okay, maybe more like Grumpy today. What’s up?”

“Well, Boss...I’m starting to wonder if you’re trying to tell me something.”

“Yeah, I’m telling you to cheer up.”

“Tony, I’m serious,” Happy said, crossing his arms. “I dunno if I did something or what but I’ve been getting the cold shoulder from you for, like, two months. I’m no idiot, Tony. I can take a hint. Just fire me already, get it over with.”

“Wait, what? Relax Hogan, nobody’s getting fired. I’ve just been busy.”

“Sure,” Happy nodded, still scowling. “It’s just, I’m supposed to be your driver, but the only driving I’ve done for you lately is when I have to pick you and Jim up before your drunk asses get thrown out of some club. And even that’s not happening very much, not like it used to.”

“Nothing personal, I told you. I’ve been busy,” Tony protested. Now that Happy mentioned it, though, Tony realized he hadn’t been going out as much, partially because Rhodey had been promoted and his new schedule had him traveling in and out of town a lot, but mostly because Bruce worked a lot of closing shifts. 

“Really?” Happy said stubbornly. “Because it looks like you’ve been doing a hell of a lot of driving, I’m assuming that’s why I’ve been refilling your gas tank so much. Hard not to take that personal.”

“C’mon Happy, can’t a guy drive his own car once in awhile?” Tony laughed shakily. The trip to Starbucks was about half an hour each way and Tony hadn’t thought about how much gas he must be going through driving out there almost every day. “Don’t worry, I still like you too much to fire you.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d you blow me off on Saturday?”

“I didn’t...aw, _shit_ ,” Tony said. He’d completely forgotten that he and Happy were supposed to go boxing on Saturday afternoon. Instead, he’d spent the afternoon at Starbucks, debating, among other things, environmental issues with Bruce (and because Bruce took environmental issues _very_ seriously, Tony mostly just let him rant). He remembered his phone ringing a couple of times but when he saw it was Happy he sent the calls to voicemail because whatever Happy was calling about was definitely way less interesting than watching Bruce get angry about fracking. “Pepper, why didn’t you remind me?”

“Oh no you don’t,” Pepper said. “Don’t go blaming this on me. I was under the impression you could at least manage your social life on your own.”

“Apparently not,” Tony said. He glanced at Happy, who still looked mad, but some hurt had crept into his expression and Tony felt bad. “So I fucked up, c’mon, have you met me? I do that. Happy, pick a day, any day you want and we’ll go. I promise I’ll show up this time. Okay?”

“Sure,” Happy said, a little less harsh. “Saturday? 1:30?”

“You’re on,” Tony replied. He knew his risk of forgetting about Happy wouldn’t be nearly as high this time because Bruce wasn’t working on Saturday. “Pep, you got that?”

“Yes, Tony,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes. 

“Good?” Tony held his hand out to Happy who, after a few seconds, relaxed and accepted the handshake. 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Happy said. “But this time can you at least give me a heads up if you’re not gonna show? Because I’ve got better ways to spend my Saturday than hanging around your house for an hour waiting for you to get back from who-knows-where.” 

“Oh, you mean the secret place Tony disappears off to all the time? Are we talking about that now?” Pepper asked innocently. 

“I dunno, are we?” Happy said. “Tony?”

“Nope,” Tony said, shaking his head. “There is no secret place so there’s nothing to talk about.” 

“Yeah?” Happy argued. “Then where are you always going that you don’t want me driving you?”

“I don’t…” Tony started. His heart had started pounding and he suddenly felt very defensive. “I just like to get out of the house once in awhile, okay? That’s it, that’s my big secret. Sometimes I want a change of scene so I go find one. Not scandalous enough for you? Too bad. Now can we please stop dissecting my schedule? I know for a fact we all have better shit to do with our time.”

“Fine,” Pepper said, not sounding the least bit content with Tony’s answer. “I’ll get back to work, then. Happy, give me another hour? _Someone_ barged in here and distracted me before I could finish this.”

“It’s not barging in if it’s _my_ office.”

“Sure thing, Pepper,” Happy said, ignoring Tony. “Just text me, I’ll be around.”

“Will do,” Pepper smiled. Happy turned to leave but paused when he met eyes with Tony.

“Saturday, 1:30,” Tony said, pointing at Happy. “Don’t you forget, either.”

“It’d serve you right,” Happy said, finally smiling. “Good to see you, Boss. Don’t be a stranger.”

Tony nodded and Happy clapped him on the back before leaving. Tony turned back to Pepper who was still sitting at the computer.

“I can’t believe Happy really thought I’d fire him,” Tony said, walking back toward the desk. Pepper didn’t say anything, probably because she was too busy staring at him. “What?”

“Tony, you know you can talk to me, right? If there’s anything, you know...going on. WIth you. That you might want to talk about.”

“Okay, out with it, Potts,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “What’s up?”

“Well...where _do_ you go all day? And what are you doing that you don’t want us knowing about?” Pepper asked, her eyes still fixed on Tony. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I know but it’d be nice to hear it from you.”

“You already did. Sorry to disappoint you, Pep, but that’s it.”

“Fine,” Pepper said. “You can’t blame me for wondering what’s going on, though. Or for guessing.”

“Jesus, there’s nothing going on,” Tony groaned. “But I have a feeling I’m about to hear your guess anyway.”

“There’s a girl,” Pepper said immediately. “You’ve got a secret girlfriend you’re always sneaking off to visit.”

“ _What_? Wrong. So, so wrong.” Tony shook his head, trying to ignore the anxiety creeping up on him, or at least hoping Pepper wouldn’t notice. 

“Then why are you so tense all of a sudden?” Pepper smirked, because of course she noticed.

“I’m not…” Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “There’s no girl, no secret affair or anything, I promise.”

“Okay,” Pepper said after a moment. Tony shook his head and shifted his attention back to the bookshelf and that stupid plant. “I’ll figure it out, you know. If Jim doesn’t beat me to it.”

“You pulled Rhodey into this crap too?”

“He started it, actually.”

“What the fuck, guys,” Tony muttered. “This is bullshit.”

“Tony, come on,” Pepper said, wheeling toward him in the computer chair. “You tell us everything. You tell us much more than anyone needs to know about you on a daily basis but you won’t tell us this. Of course we’re curious!”

Tony sighed and crossed back to his desk and leaned against it, standing where the chair had been before Pepper rolled it away. He knew the only way to get them to back down would be telling the truth, that he was spending all that time at a Starbucks on the other side of town where his friend Bruce worked, and, really, what was so hard about that? 

His immediate response was to blame his experiment for all the secrecy, but he knew it was something more than that keeping him quiet. The experiment had fallen more and more to the wayside, further away from the front of his mind every day. When Natasha told him Bruce was sick, Tony didn’t try to analyze that new bit of data, didn’t attempt to figure out which Bruce was behind the claim; instead, Tony immediately assumed the worst and only relaxed once he knew Bruce was okay. The experiment hadn’t even crossed his mind until...well, until now.

But if it wasn’t the experiment, what was it?

“Be curious all you want,” Tony shrugged, feigning indifference. “But you’re on your own. Hate to break it to you but I’m not going to sit around playing 20 Questions about my personal life.”

“You’re still doing absolutely nothing to prove me wrong,” Pepper smirked. “So until you do, I’m going to assume you’re always off visiting your secret girlfriend.”

“Only one problem with that,” Tony said. “There’s no secret girlfriend. Kind of disproves your little theory, doesn’t it?”

“Not if I don’t believe you.” Pepper paused for a moment before she let out a loud gasp, her eyes wide and a huge smile on her face. “It’s a _boy_! There’s no secret girlfriend but there _is_ a secret boyfriend, isn’t there?”

“You’re off your game today, Potts. I’m disappointed.” Tony shook his head.

“You don’t need to be ashamed or anything, you know. If that’s why you’re hiding him.”

“Believe me, Pep. If I was dating _anyone_ , girl, guy, robot, vaguely humanoid alien life form, you’d know. I’m not great at keeping secrets that involve copious amounts of hot, hot sex. Especially if I’m the one having it.” Tony laughed to himself, hoping to dissolve the lump that appeared in his throat when Pepper said ‘boyfriend.’

“Okay, good point,” Pepper admitted. “But you’re still hiding something.”

“Yeah, well…” Tony started. He shrugged instead of finishing the thought. “You’re wasting your time making something out of nothing here, Ms. Potts.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Stark,” Pepper said, winking. Tony groaned. “Now either go deal with those drafts that have been sitting over there for at least two weeks or get out of here and let me finish my work.”

“This is still _my_ office,” Tony grumbled. “I’m going down to the lab.”

“Take those with you,” Pepper said, motioning at the binder of drafts on the opposite end of the desk. Tony made a face. “I’ll have to bring them over, then. Obadiah wanted them done a week ago.”

“Obie needs to chill,” Tony said, grabbing his bag and leaving the binder untouched. “Hey, if you’re bringing that shit over tonight I might even let you make me dinner while you’re there!”

“You’re impossible,” Pepper laughed. “I’ll think about it. Now get out of here before I throw something at you. I have work to do.”

“Love you too!” Tony said, grinning as he let the door slam shut behind him. 

He knew he should’ve told his friends about Bruce and, thinking about it as he wandered down the hall toward the elevator, Tony couldn’t really blame them for speculating. In his defense, it wasn’t like he _decided_ not to tell anyone; in the beginning there hadn’t been anything to tell, not when everything was the way it was supposed to be and Bruce’s role in Tony’s life was simply a curiosity, a puzzle for Tony to analyze and eventually figure out and be done with. If Tony had been able to keep things under control, if the borders between Bruce the puzzle and Bruce the person had remained clear, nothing would have changed and he could still justify keeping his friends in the dark. 

But things had changed and Pepper was right, Tony _was_ hiding something. Bruce wasn’t just a puzzle anymore, not since Tony ignored his own rules and started thinking of Bruce as a friend. Suddenly there was something worth telling but Tony still wouldn’t tell and he hadn’t meant to but keeping Bruce’s existence a secret had turned Bruce into a Thing, something significant, the very opposite of what he was supposed to be. The only thing Tony’s silence was doing was drawing more attention to the fact that he was hiding something important.

Tony knew what the obvious solution to his problem was and he knew he could make it happen in an instant, but he didn’t and he was pretty sure he knew why. Telling anyone about Bruce would make it all real. All of those thoughts and observations and theories and feelings that Tony had so carefully sectioned off into a corner of his mind labeled ‘Bruce’ would break free and spill over into his real life, all messy and confusing and dangerous for reasons Tony had no intention of exploring. If anyone knew - if _Pepper_ knew - then he might have to. Just thinking about that was enough to send a chill down Tony’s spine.

Tony boarded the elevator and went all the way down to the ground floor without paying the slightest bit of attention. He was so busy pondering how much of his afternoon had been spent thinking about Bruce (who Tony hadn’t even _seen_ in two days) that he was halfway home before he realized he never made it to his lab. 

Pepper came by around 7:00 with the binder and made chicken and rice while Tony sat at the kitchen table and went through the drafts one by one, scribbling feedback in the margins and signing off on the handful he approved of.

While he was working, Tony kept thinking about whether or not he should tell Pepper about Bruce. He was still reluctant but he knew she would only be more suspicious (and more annoying about it) the longer he held out. Really, at this point, he didn’t have much of a choice. Pepper would inevitably find out about Bruce whether Tony wanted her to or not; it was just a matter of how and when and, unless Tony wanted things to get even more uncomfortable, he had to tell her before she figured it out on her own. 

Tony didn’t want to bring it up himself but he decided he’d tell Pepper if she asked again. He figured she wouldn’t be able to make it through dinner without picking up where she’d left off that afternoon. Somehow she managed to restrain herself, though, so Tony didn’t say a word. 

When Tony finally settled in for the night, long after Pepper went home, he couldn’t sleep. That in itself wasn’t unusual - he had trouble sleeping more nights than not - but he could usually lull himself off eventually. This time, though, Tony’s head was full of a mess of thoughts and feelings about his day, about Pepper and Happy and how he couldn’t blame them for wondering and whether he believed Natasha’s story about food poisoning and of course Bruce, over and over, Bruce making coffee and leaning on the counter to talk and Bruce at the diner, always letting Tony steal his pickles and chatting endlessly about _Doctor Who_ with Skye whenever she was working and sometimes hanging around the parking lot talking to Tony long after they’d finished dinner and Bruce withdrawing into himself no matter what Tony did and Bruce living in his car and Bruce with a gun in his mouth and _fuck_.

Tony shuffled into the bathroom in search of sleeping pills but came up empty, not even any Tylenol PM to be found. By then he knew sleep was a lost cause without help so he turned to his old standby and when he crawled back into bed he found that a few shots of vodka had done the trick, taken the edge off just like booze always did. He finally drifted off around 4:00, which gave him about five hours before he needed to leave if he wanted to get to Starbucks by the time Bruce came in (assuming he didn’t call out again) at 10:00. 

Five hours and fifty-four minutes after Tony finally fell asleep, he pulled into the Starbucks parking lot and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Bruce’s car in its usual spot.

“He lives!” Tony walked up to the counter, smiling. “How’re you feeling? Are you still puking because if you are then you need to stay over there, I can’t deal with other people’s puke. But if you’re not still puking, then we’re good.”

“Do you really think I’d be here if I was still sick? Natasha wouldn’t let me in the door if I tried since I’d probably be violating about ten health code regulations.”

“Only ten? What do I always say about selling yourself short? Try for all of them, you can do it. I believe in you.” Tony gave Bruce a high-five. “Seriously, though. You’re better?”

“It was just food poisoning,” Bruce said. “I’m fine. I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to eat egg salad again, though.”

“Not really that great a loss,” Tony said, earning an eye roll from Bruce as he started making a drink. 

Tony watched Bruce work for a few seconds before he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

  
**Pepper** : _Someone’s out early today! How’s your secret BF? Tell him I say hi ;)_

**Tony** : _Still no BF, secret or not._

**Pepper** : _Fine. Are you ever gonna tell me what’s going on?_

**Tony** : _Nothing’s going on._

**Pepper** : _Okay, then where are you right now?_  


Tony put his phone down and looked over at Bruce, still hard at work behind the espresso machine. He spent an anxiety-ridden moment drumming his fingers against the counter and weighing his options, then took a deep breath and picked up his phone again.

  
**Tony** : _Starbucks where my friend works, same as usual._

**Pepper** : _What friend? Since when do you have friends? Name?_

**Tony** : _Bruce._  


Tony shoved his phone in his bag before he got a response from Pepper when he saw Bruce walking back toward him, fresh coffee in hand. He placed the cup in front of Tony without comment.

“Ahh, what would I do without your devotion to making sure I never go uncaffeinated?” Tony pulled the cup toward him and took a tiny sip of the steaming hot beverage. 

“Get up and order your own coffee? I hear that’s what most people do.”

“Yeah, well, sucks for most people,” Tony said lightly, sipping more of his coffee now that it had cooled off a bit. 

“So, uh...sorry you had to come all the way out here yesterday,” Bruce said, slouching over the counter and fidgeting with his apron. He cleared his throat. “Um...thanks for...well, Natasha told me you were, you know...worried. About me.”

“All I said was feel better,” Tony answered, much more defensively than he’d intended. Bruce instantly averted his eyes and muttered something under his breath. “Not that I didn’t mean it. Don’t get me wrong, I was concerned because you never call out, like, I don’t think I’ve actually seen you call out before yesterday, so it was out of character. But worried is, like…”

“I mean, she didn’t actually say ‘worried,’ it was implied,” Bruce cut in, looking back at Tony with a slight smile. “But I...I appreciate it regardless, I guess? That you…”

“Cared?” Tony blurted - albeit quietly - but Bruce was being called over to the registers and didn’t hear him (or at least chose not to respond). Tony sighed and sipped his coffee and wondered if he was in danger of giving himself away by caring as much as he did. After all, if he didn’t know Bruce’s history, hearing that Bruce had food poisoning would probably elicit the same reaction it would for Pepper or Rhodey or Happy; if he didn’t know Bruce’s history he wouldn’t have jumped to conclusions about any of the terrible reasons Bruce might have stayed home, reasons that had nothing to do with spoiled egg salad. 

Bruce was busy so Tony dug through his bag for his phone and, when he found it, he was unsurprised to find a bunch of missed texts from Pepper. He rolled his eyes and scrolled back through the list.

  
_Now was that so hard?_

_So who’s Bruce? Do I know him? Where’d you meet him?_

_I still don’t get why you didn’t tell me._

_My secret BF theory still stands, you know._

_When do I get to meet this mysterious Bruce?_

_You should invite him for dinner! Be nice to cook for someone who isn’t you for once._   


Tony put his phone down abruptly and closed his eyes for a second, imagining himself and Pepper and Bruce eating dinner together at Tony’s kitchen table. The thought scared the shit out of him.

He wasn’t sure what was so terrifying, the idea of Pepper and Bruce as friends, or of inviting Bruce over for dinner, or just of Bruce actually being part of Tony’s life, his real life, not just the weird Bruce-life he’d accidentally created, and he had no idea why any of that would even be scary in the first place. 

Tony did know one thing: he really, _really_ wished Pepper would cut it out with the ‘secret boyfriend’ crap (he also knew that he couldn’t say anything about it because that would just encourage her). 

It was an unusually busy afternoon so Bruce barely had a chance to talk to Tony. Tony had brought work with him and, as always, took up half the counter with his stuff, but he got even less than usual done. He knew Pepper would be waiting for him when he got home, ready to bombard him with a million questions about Bruce, and he spent most of the afternoon trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to explain any of it when he himself barely understood what he’d gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that time I said I was going to try to post weekly? Remember how that was like a month and a half ago? Yeah, sorry about that. Things have been...less than ideal for concentrating on writing/anything and this chapter (one part in particular) was ridiculously difficult to finish. But, hey, I eventually did it! 
> 
> Thank you thank you for all your comments & your kind thoughts - I'm not going to give a timeframe for updating because I honestly have no idea, but I will try my best to make it less sporadic than it's been!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Tony can't tell Pepper the whole truth, she fills in the blanks with her own ideas about Tony's odd behavior, most of which involve the kinds of feelings Tony is absolutely, positively not feeling about Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, I don't think (unless Tony's emotional cluelessness is a problem, in which case consider yourselves forewarned). 
> 
> (A short, relatively uneventful chapter, which is explained in the end notes.)

“I still think it’s cute.”

“So I’ve heard,” Tony sighed, closing his laptop. He’d been planning to take a break soon, before he actually went cross-eyed from coding, but his idea of a break involved really loud music and a couple of beers, not more of Pepper’s attempts to drive him insane.

Talking to Pepper about Bruce wasn’t quite as weird as Tony expected. He told her the truth, but it was the version of the truth everyone else - including Bruce - believed, and, since Pepper had an annoying habit of seeing right through Tony’s bullshit, he’d been concerned she might realize he wasn’t telling her everything. But he had nothing to worry about because why _wouldn’t_ Pepper believe him? His story made sense and it was a hell of a lot more plausible than the actual truth; even if she hadn’t been there that day, hadn’t seen Tony talking to Bruce at Starbucks, she still wouldn’t have any reason to think there might be more to it. 

Hell, Tony had almost convinced _himself_ that was how it happened (and he wasn’t sure that was a bad thing).

Pepper didn’t question the story itself but she still had plenty of questions, questions which involved a bunch of words Tony didn’t like, uncomfortable words like ‘keeping secrets’ and ‘sneaking around’ and, Pepper’s favorite words of all, ‘secret boyfriend.’ 

Tony thought three straight days of that would be enough to make him feel less weird about the whole thing but, apparently, he was wrong. To his extreme frustration, he still couldn’t shake the anxiety, couldn’t dissolve the lump in his throat that appeared whenever he so much as thought about what Pepper was saying.

Pepper noticed his ongoing discomfort, of course, and it only seemed to encourage her stupid, totally inaccurate secret boyfriend theory.

“It happens to everyone, you know,” she said brightly, ignoring Tony’s glare as she slid into the chair on the other side of the table. “Butterflies are a perfectly normal part of having a crush!”

“Jesus, Pep, for the millionth time, I don’t have a crush on Bruce,” Tony snapped, uncomfortably aware of his suddenly sweaty palms.

“Then what’s the problem? I don’t remember you getting all nervous the first time you invited _me_ over.”

“That’s different,” Tony said. “You work for me. Bruce doesn’t. And I’m not nervous, I just didn’t have a chance to bring it up.”

“I’m sorry, you spent how long at Starbucks today? Plus yesterday, and Tuesday too, and you couldn’t find the time to say ‘Hey Bruce, you should come over to my place sometime’?” Pepper smirked as Tony grumbled under his breath and gave her a dirty look. “And don’t start about it being ‘weird’ again. Inviting friends over isn’t weird, that’s what normal people do. What’s weird is only ever seeing Bruce while he’s at work. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten him fired yet.”

“You say that like I am anything but an asset to any and all work environments.”

“An asset? More like a pain in the ass.”

“You’re one to talk,” Tony said, grabbing his computer and spinning his chair around, away from Pepper. Working with his laptop in his actual lap was less than ideal, ergonomically, but he was willing to risk carpal tunnel if it got him out of this conversation. “Go bother someone else, I have shit to do.”

He barely had a chance to open his laptop before a balled up piece of looseleaf paper came flying at his head. 

“Quit trying to change the subject. If it’s not a crush then why are you being so weird?”

“Anyone ever told you you need a hobby?” Tony said, turning back to face her. “If not, then I’m telling you, right now: you need a hobby. I’m concerned, Pepper, because your obsession with my nonexistent love life isn’t healthy. What next, are you gonna drive out there and invite him over for dinner?...You’re not gonna do that, right?”

“Of course not,” Pepper said sincerely. “I’m just trying to help, you know. If you don’t want to invite Bruce over just tell me and I’ll drop it, I promise.”

“No, it’s…” It wasn’t that Tony didn’t _want_ to invite Bruce over, not at all, and if everything was as straightforward as Pepper thought it was he’d probably have done it a long time ago. But it was complicated, _Bruce_ was complicated, and Tony was actually tempted to tell Pepper the whole story simply because Pepper was good at understanding messy things like feelings and would probably pinpoint the real source of Tony’s anxiety in, like, thirty seconds. 

Maybe if Pepper knew the truth she wouldn’t be so convinced he was secretly in love with Bruce and she’d stop talking about it all the time and then Tony could stop being so confused about how weird her teasing made him feel. But, of course, she couldn’t know any of it, so he was left with his vague understanding of his own dilemma and his even vaguer attempts to explain it to Pepper, who took his uncertainty as an invitation to fill in the blanks with her own interpretations. 

Pepper’s interpretations, Tony grudgingly had to admit, were actually pretty solid, but he decided that had much more to do with Pepper’s incredibly persuasive nature than any truth that might maybe kind of back up the point she was so clearly making.

“Tony?”

“No, it’s not that,” Tony said softly, shaking his head. “I...I have no idea why this is such a big deal. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not,” Pepper agreed. “So you’ll ask him?”

“I...yeah, I will. Tomorrow,” Tony decided. “Don’t get too excited, though. There’s no way he’s gonna say yes.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s _Bruce_ , that’s what he does. He never wants to let himself have any fun.” Tony paused, waiting for Pepper to say something, but she just looked confused. “He’s...I’ll talk him into it eventually. I’m good at that.”

“I know you are,” Pepper said. “Is that why you’re so worried, because you’re afraid he’s going to say no?”

“I _know_ he’s gonna say no,” Tony corrected. He realized he’d known that all along, known no matter what he said Bruce was going to find some reason to say no.

“But you’re still going to ask, right?”

“You’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t,” Tony said. He actually felt a little better now that he couldn’t put it off anymore; some of the discomfort and anxiety he’d been immersed in for three days still lingered but most of it was replaced by a welcome sense of relief, maybe even something like excitement.

Tony knew exactly how Pepper would interpret that change so, since he had no intention of encouraging her stupid armchair psychoanalysis, he kept his mouth shut and ignored his nagging suspicion that she might actually be somewhere in the general vicinity of having an absolutely minuscule bit of a point.

“You’ll thank me later,” Pepper smirked. “I still can’t believe you’ve never asked anyone out on a date before!”

“It’s not a date,” Tony groaned. 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Watch it, Potts. I can fire you, you know. I could fire you right here.”

“Yeah? Go ahead, I dare you,” Pepper said, rolling her eyes. She entertained Tony’s exaggerated glare for a few seconds before she grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t push it,” Tony said. He let Pepper keep grinning at him for a few moments before he cleared his throat loudly. “Well, this sure was fun, let’s never do it again. Don’t you have, like, actual work to do? Somewhere else?”

“Look who’s talking,” Pepper teased. “I should get to the library, though. Tragically, this paper isn’t going to write itself before Monday.”

“I could make that happen,” Tony said. “I mean, probably not by Monday but...gimme a week - two, tops. I bet I can get you a decent prototype in time for your next paper.”

“You can’t build a robot for everything, Tony,” Pepper laughed as she stood up. Tony raised an eyebrow and smirked because he was pretty sure he could, in fact, build a robot for everything. “I’m still waiting on that coffee robot, though. We don’t all have a Bruce like yours to keep us caffeinated, you know, so a coffee robot would be very nice.”

“So would world peace,” Tony shrugged. “And he’s not _my_ Bruce.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Stark,” Pepper said, smirking at Tony. He rolled his eyes as she grabbed her bag and started toward the door. “Tomorrow. Don’t you dare chicken out.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Potts,” Tony laughed. He turned his attention to his laptop but looked back up at Pepper when he didn’t hear the door close. “What?”

“It’s still cute.” 

Pepper ducked outside and the empty water bottle Tony flung in her direction hit the door and fell to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...In my defense, I promised I wouldn't ABANDON this, not that I wouldn't suddenly go 11 months without updating! 
> 
> Um, yeah, if anyone is even still out there, sorry about that. It's been a really, really shitty year or so, just shit on top of shit wrapped up in shit with a shit bow on top, and...yeah, here we are. 
> 
> So this is supposed to be just the first part of the chapter, but I'm posting it on its own because I'm having a ridiculously tough time finishing the rest of it (which probably has something to do with the fact that I've actually been trying to finish it for the past 11 months...I am nothing if not stubborn to the point of stupidity) and I wanted to get SOMETHING up. 
> 
> Thanks to all y'all who stuck around (and extra thanks to Renata for listening to me talk about this chapter for the last 11 months) - I know every time I said I'd try to update sooner the exact opposite happened, but I'm fairly confident that I'll update again before February 2016. Trust me, I'm not even a little bit done with my idiot baby AU science bros!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finally, finally starts to put together what all his friends are telling him about Bruce's role in his life. Unsurprisingly, he continues to be an idiot about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings, I don't think (suicide is mentioned as a concept but if you've gotten this far in you're probably used to that by now).

“Hey, you should come by my place sometime,” Tony said casually, like he hadn’t been stressing over the words for days. “Awesome tech everywhere, it’s like Candy Land except with a robot instead of a creepy sludge monster. You’ll love it.”

Bruce looked up from the blender he was washing and, just for a moment, he stared at Tony with a strange, intense look in his eyes, apparently not noticing the soapy water dripping all over his apron. For a split second Tony thought he might actually accept the invitation.

“Thanks for the offer,” Bruce said, shaking himself out of his momentary trance. “But, uh, I’m gonna have to pass.”

“Wrong answer, unless that’s some weird Brucey way of saying ‘Why yes Tony, I’d love to, that sounds awesome,’ and if it is then you’ve really got to work on your communication skills, buddy.”

“Tony, I…” Bruce turned away, ostensibly to dry the blender, but Tony wasn’t fooled. “Maybe some other time.”

“Well, it’s a standing offer,” Tony shrugged. He wasn’t surprised - and ‘maybe some other time’ was better than the ‘no’ he’d been expecting - but he found himself disappointed anyway. He wondered if Bruce could tell and, oddly, kind of hoped he could.

“Uh...thanks,” Bruce murmured. He finished wiping the blender dry and returned it to its base before turning back to Tony. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah you will. It’ll be fun, no pressure, just playing with all my toys.” Tony grinned. “Also my lab equipment. We can play with that too.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and grabbed his next order off the counter while Tony sat back and pulled out his tablet. There was a post-it note stuck to the center of the screen that hadn’t been there when he’d spent an hour taking stupid BuzzFeed quizzes the night before.

_If those proposals aren’t reviewed and sitting in my email by 9pm I’ll delete all your Two Dots high scores._

_(Tell Bruce I said hi!)_

Pepper’s handwriting was annoyingly perfect so, even though Bruce was nowhere near him and had a 0% chance of reading the note, Tony quickly crumpled it into a tiny ball and then dropped it into his bag. Instead of thinking about why he’d reacted so strongly to a fairly innocent note, he chose to focus instead on whether or not Pepper was serious about the Two Dots scores. He decided she probably was so, grumbling to himself, he opened the email Pepper had sent him over a week ago and started one of the worst parts of his job, sorting through and approving or denying proposals from the R&D department.

As usual, Tony skimmed through the proposals and decided they were mostly shitty and/or boring. He’d long suspected Howard of giving him the worst groups of employees to oversee and every new set of proposals seemed to reinforce that belief. Even the ones Tony didn’t immediately veto left much to be desired in the way of creativity and excitement and Tony had to force himself to stay focused because every time he let his mind wander he ended up watching Bruce work. 

Even when he wasn’t procrastinating, Tony enjoyed watching Bruce work; he liked to think he could see hints of Bruce’s secret former life - the life where Bruce spent his days in a lab instead of behind an espresso machine - in the careful, precise way Bruce put the various drinks together. 

It suddenly hit Tony how unfair it was that his inbox was full of crappy work done by assholes while Bruce, who Tony knew was smarter and more awesome than those assholes, probably even all of them put together, was using all his intelligence and talent to make coffee. Tony understood _why_ Bruce wanted to keep his past hidden, but he had no idea _how_ Bruce could live like he was living - working a shitty dead-end job and sleeping on a futon in a tiny apartment he shared with his boss and her boyfriend - without being consumed by bitterness and jealousy. 

Tony spitefully denied the next two proposals in his ‘maybe’ pile without reading them. Just because Bruce seemed willing to settle for so much less than he deserved didn’t mean Tony couldn’t be pissed off on his behalf. Bruce had to have _someone_ in his corner who truly appreciated how fucking unfair it all was and nobody was more qualified for that position than Tony. His knowledge of Bruce’s secrets aside, Tony recognized that Bruce was the only person he’d ever met whose intelligence truly rivaled his own; keeping a mind like Bruce’s so confined was more than an injustice, it was straight up cruelty. 

But Bruce had clearly resigned himself to his circumstances, shitty as they were, and even though Tony didn’t like it, he let Bruce go on pretending the only reason he wasn’t in school was money. After all, Tony had seen - heard - what happened when Bruce brought all the other things - things he hid so carefully, like abuse, betrayal, and depression - into the equation.

Tony felt vaguely ill as the memory sparked an uncomfortably clear image of what might have happened if he’d turned his music up instead of answering the phone that night. 

As pissed off as Tony was for Bruce, he was prepared to do whatever he could to prevent Bruce from ever getting that low again - even if that meant reigning in his anger and never, ever telling Bruce what he knew (or how he knew it). 

Tony was so lost in his own thoughts that, even though he was looking straight ahead (over the tablet he was still holding and ignoring, but he’d been doing that even before he spaced out), it didn’t even register that Bruce was no longer behind the counter. It was only when someone tapped him on the shoulder, startling him enough that he almost fell off of his chair, that Tony snapped back to reality. 

“Not cool, Banner.”

“I said your name twice,” Bruce said, standing behind Tony’s chair with his hands in his pockets. “I couldn’t tell if you were meditating, sleeping with your eyes open, or having a petit mal seizure.”

“None of the above,” Tony said. “I was _pondering_ , if you must know.”

“Pondering.”

“Yes, pondering. My IQ is far too high for mere thinking.”

“Oh, excuse me. Well, whatever you were _pondering_ must have been fascinating,” Bruce laughed. He paused for the slightest moment, his smile transforming into an awkward smirk, and his eyes darted away from Tony. “Or sexy.”

“Don’t worry, it was,” Tony said without thinking. Then his brain caught up. “Fascinating, I mean. It was fascinating. Very fascinating. Not sexy.”

“They’re not necessarily mutually exclusive,” Bruce commented lightly. He took his hand out of his pocket and brushed his hair back off his forehead. “But please, be more overtly defensive, it’s very convincing.”

“Shut up,” Tony said, finally getting down from his chair and turning to face Bruce. “Did you come out here just to bother me? Because I’m pretty sure that’s my job.”

“I’m on break,” Bruce said. “I need to go to Rite Aid and I figured you’d want to come.”

“You figured right,” Tony agreed. “What’s at Rite Aid?”

“Extension cord.”

“An _extension cord_?” Tony scoffed. “You know where else you can get an extension cord? For free?”

“Where?”

“My house. I’ve got a whole closet full of extension cords and shit I’m not using. Come on by and have your pick.”

“Okay, Tony,” Bruce said. He was a few steps ahead of Tony but Tony could hear him rolling his eyes. “I can buy my own extension cords.”

“I know you can,” Tony said quickly. He should have suspected Bruce was just as stubborn and proud as Pepper, maybe even worse. His tone of voice was sounding a whole lot like the one Pepper used in situations like this. “But, you know, I can hook you up. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not for you,” Bruce muttered. He was leaning against the lightpost waiting for the light to change, idly kicking at the pebbles just next to the curb, which just so happened to give him something to look at that wasn’t Tony. 

“Heads up, Banner,” Tony said once the light changed without Bruce noticing. “Now who’s not paying attention?”

“What, you’re the only one allowed to _ponder_?” Bruce said, stepping into the crosswalk with Tony at his heels. 

“Touche,” Tony said. A gust of wind blew by, strong enough to mess up Bruce’s hair, and Tony had to stop himself from reaching over to brush it out of his eyes because _what the fuck are you doing, Stark_ , and then Pepper’s voice was running through his mind, of course, and _shut up, Potts_. 

“What?”

“Huh?”

“You just told someone to shut up,” Bruce said. 

“I did?” Tony asked.

“You did,” Bruce confirmed.

“Oh,” Tony said, slightly concerned for his own sanity. He followed Bruce into Rite Aid and, after Bruce disappeared in search of extension cords, he wandered around the store. He ended up by the As Seen on TV products, which was where Bruce found him a minute or two later. 

“Anything interesting?” 

“Pfft, not really,” Tony said. He picked up a bright blue box and offered it to Bruce. “Unless you want to spend twenty bucks on a shitty Bluetooth speaker you can use in the shower.” 

“It _does_ light up,” Bruce said, spinning the box around in his hands before handing it back to Tony. “I dunno, sounds like a good deal to me.”

“Yeah, if you want to turn your shower into a fucking disco.” Tony took one last look at the box and then returned it to the shelf. “I bet the sound quality is absolute shit. At home, I’ve got everything hooked up centrally. Speakers everywhere so I can listen to awesome-sounding music anywhere I want, shower included. You should swing by and check it out sometime, I think you’ll--”

“ _Okay_ Tony,” Bruce snapped, cutting Tony off before Tony even realized what he’d said. “I get it. I told you I’ll think about it so can you please just drop it already?”

“Sorry,” Tony said quietly after a long, awkward moment of silence. 

“Yeah, I...uh…,” Bruce muttered. He was wringing his hands together like he did whenever he was nervous and barely seemed to notice when he almost dropped the extension cord. “I...let’s just go.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. Bruce walked up to the register but Tony held back, trying to avoid doing even more damage. He’d intentionally been a pain in the ass about his house all afternoon and, until now, Bruce hadn’t reacted any stronger than he did to any of Tony’s usual bullshit. It was only when Tony _wasn’t_ trying to annoy Bruce on purpose - because this time he hadn’t meant to badger Bruce at all, he didn’t even realize what he’d said until Bruce got upset - that he legitimately pissed Bruce off.

Tony briefly considered writing the As Seen on TV people to complain that their stupid, shitty speaker was ruining his life. Luckily (for the As Seen on TV people), Bruce was done paying and ready to leave before Tony had a chance to elaborate on the idea.

“C’mon, my break’s almost over,” Bruce said, walking toward the door with a small plastic bag in his hand. Tony followed him back outside to the crosswalk. 

“Hey, Bruce?” Tony asked as they crossed the street. “Look, I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s…” Bruce said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Sorry.”

“Well, I mean, I should’ve shut up about it already,” Tony laughed weakly.

“If you did, that would mean you were respecting boundaries and taking ‘no’ for an answer,” Bruce said, but he was laughing. “You basically wouldn’t be _you_ anymore.”

“I...I’m...” Tony fumbled, having absolutely no idea how to reply. He couldn’t tell if Bruce was still mad or if he was just messing with his head. “Sorry?”

“No,” Bruce said seriously. They were back at Starbucks, but Bruce stopped before he went inside. He looked at Tony. “I’m glad you’re you. That’s why I...that’s why we’re friends, because you’re you and I’m me and that’s...good. Even if you are an enormous pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Are you giving me permission to be an even bigger pain in the ass? Because that’s what it sounds like to me,” Tony said, his brain slowly exiting panic mode. 

“You need permission?”

“Shut it, Banner,” Tony said. Bruce laughed again as he went back inside. He held the door for Tony behind him. “Get back to work, specifically the part of working where you make me more coffee.”

“There’s that charm,” Bruce said. 

“You love it,” Tony grinned. He waited as Bruce poured and then handed over Tony’s freshly-brewed cup of coffee. 

“You’re welcome,” Bruce said as Tony grabbed the cup and immediately took a sip of the boiling hot coffee. Tony put the cup down and was about to belatedly thank Bruce when Bruce, smirking, shook his head fondly and went back to work.

While Bruce was busy, Tony kept an eye on him while alternating between sipping his coffee and blowing on it to (unsuccessfully) cool it off. He took his phone out and scrolled through his notifications, hoping to find something even remotely interesting to look at - or at least some annoying texts from Pepper to ignore. Unsurprisingly, it was just a bunch of boring bullshit he didn’t care about (and Pepper was busy being a good student who didn’t text in class), so he put his phone away and looked back at Bruce, who had turned around and was washing something in the sink. Because one of Tony’s defining traits was the inability to know when enough was enough, he waited until the very second Bruce turned back around to call him over. 

“What?”

“Remember that time you told me I was allowed to be a pain in the ass? I’m taking you up on that right now to remind you how I think you should come by my place sometime. In case you forgot.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes as he went back to work. 

Instead of bothering Bruce again (which Tony was very tempted to do, but even he could tell he was walking on very thin ice and didn’t want to find out what it would take to break through it more than he already had), Tony grabbed his tablet and reluctantly opened up the stupid proposals again. He hated them even more than he had before, mainly because they were way less interesting than continuing to puzzle through the Rite Aid incident.

Even though Bruce had apologized and seemed fine, Tony realized he was still somewhat convinced he’d really fucked up this time, pushed Bruce too far, and Bruce was just pretending to be okay - which, Tony reminded himself, Bruce was really, really good at. The knowledge did nothing to placate Tony’s mounting anxiety about the situation.

Tony’s worries only grew after several failed attempts to make eye contact with Bruce; yes, the store was busy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Bruce was actively ignoring him. Finally, just as Tony’s brain was about to switch back into full panic mode, he caught Bruce’s eye. Tony smiled and, unexpectedly, Bruce actually smiled back, albeit only for a second or two before he turned back to the espresso machine, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath, but it was enough to give Tony reason to believe things might really be okay after all. 

It wasn’t that Bruce never smiled - Bruce smiled plenty, maybe not as much as other people, but enough to, at first, seemingly fly in the face of the depression Tony knew Bruce was hiding. As he got to know Bruce, though, Tony realized the vast majority of Bruce’s smiles were sarcastic, ironic, and/or self-deprecating (fittingly, as the vast majority of things Bruce said were also sarcastic, ironic, and/or self-deprecating). For purely scientific reasons, Tony had set out to learn how to differentiate between Bruce’s fake smiles and his real ones and discovered that, when Bruce smiled and meant it, his face lit up in a way that suggested he might have gotten a good night’s sleep for once (in fact, Tony hadn’t realized how _tired_ Bruce always looked until he’d gotten better at coaxing actual smiles out of him). 

Even though he only saw it for a couple of seconds, Tony was almost positive he’d just been on the receiving end of a genuine Bruce Banner smile and, if he was right, it meant even if Bruce was pissed, he wasn’t _that_ pissed and maybe Tony hadn’t fucked up so bad after all. Bruce didn’t mention Tony’s invitation - or their argument over it- for the rest of the afternoon and even Tony wasn’t stupid enough to bring it up again. Instead, he forced himself to work on the proposals (for the sake of his Two Dots scores) and watched Bruce work and tried to ignore the lingering fear that maybe he wasn’t as good at reading Bruce’s smiles as he thought. 

 

****

Later, after Bruce’s shift was over and Tony went home, he started to worry again that he might have done more harm than good. He didn’t know _why_ Bruce was so resistant to accept the invitation (besides that Bruce seemed dead-set against letting himself have any fun ever), so he didn’t know how to change Bruce’s mind without pestering him until he got pissed off and, as Bruce had made very clear, there was such a thing as too much pestering. 

Luckily, Rhodey was back in town for the weekend and Tony hoped a night out with his best friend might be a much-needed distraction.

The distraction was welcome but short-lived, lasting all of ten minutes. Rhodey clearly knew something was bothering Tony (and if he knew what that something was - which Tony had a feeling he did, thanks to Pepper - he didn’t let on, giving him the chance to hear it from Tony himself) and Tony barely hesitated before launching into a detailed retelling of his afternoon. 

“So, let me get this straight,” Rhodey said once Tony was done. “You’re afraid inviting your new friend over to your place was coming on too strong?”

“Basically,” Tony shrugged, stirring the melting ice in his glass around with a straw.

“Since when do you care about stuff like that?” Rhodey paused to down the rest of his beer. “That’s not like you.”

“It’s not...this is different. I can’t explain it but…trust me, it’s different.” Tony twisted around to flag down a passing waitress and turned back to find Rhodey staring at him, an enormous shit-eating grin on his face. ”What?”

“So this Bruce guy,” Rhodey said casually. “He’s something special, huh?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Woah, calm down, Stark,” Rhodey said. He had his hands up but his vicious grin had only grown wider. “I’m serious, he’s got to be pretty special if he got _you_ all crazy in love with him, that’s all.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhodes,” Tony snapped. He was uncomfortably aware of how Rhodey’s words had sent his heart racing and his stomach churning. “I’m not...it’s not like that. Bruce is my _friend_ , that’s it. Just a friend.”

“Uh-huh. And it’s just a coincidence that you’re blushing like crazy right now.”

“I am not,” Tony muttered, fully aware that his face did, in fact, feel like it might be on fire. “It’s just really fucking hot in here.”

“Okay, Tony,” Rhodey said, rolling his eyes and taking a drink. “But seriously, man, this isn’t like you. You’ve never cared about any of this crap before but suddenly this Bruce guy comes along and you lose your damn mind. Don’t bullshit me, I know you better than that. You like this guy, I’m thinking you like him a lot, and that’s awesome. I’m serious, Tony, I’m happy for you!”

“That’s not…” Tony started. He buried his head in his hands for a few seconds, then took a long chug of his drink. “It’s complicated, I can’t really explain it, but trust me, Rhodey. No matter what Pepper’s been telling you, me and Bruce are friends, that’s it. Friends.”

“Fine,” Rhodey shrugged. “Whatever you say, Tony. Do me a favor, though, and give me a call when you catch up so I can say ‘I told you so’.”

Tony rolled his eyes and gave Rhodey the finger. Suddenly a waitress was handing them Jagerbombs, apparently ordered for them by the nearby table of giggling girls. Rhodey grinned again and called the girls over, then ordered another round of shots for everyone. Tony still wasn’t really in the mood to party but he knew Rhodey was watching him so he tapped into his innate Stark charm and effortlessly led two of the girls out onto the dance floor, just like he’d done about a million times before. 

It ended up being a good night; Tony danced with five girls and three guys (and behaved himself enough that the stupid bodyguard/nanny Howard paid to ‘secretly’ follow him around spent more time flirting with one of the bartenders than tracking Tony’s every drunken move). When the club closed, he and Rhodey half-stumbled outside and into the backseat of the car Happy had waiting in its usual spot. They couldn’t remember the names of anyone they’d danced with, but they spent the ride to Rhodey’s apartment ranking them anyway, just like they always did. 

“Hey Boss, you moving up here?” 

They were idling in front of Rhodey’s apartment and Tony practically had his nose pressed up against the window watching Rhodey make his way inside. 

“Huh?”

“Are you coming up or no?” Tony pulled his face away from the window and looked at Happy, who jerked his head toward the passenger seat. 

“I...no, I’m good,” Tony said, realizing a second too late that Happy probably wanted the company. 

“Fine,” Happy grunted. “I’m turning the radio on, then.”

“Whatever.” Tony sprawled himself across the backseat, propping his feet up where Rhodey had been sitting and leaning back against the door. He let his head rest against the cool glass of the window and closed his eyes. 

A few seconds later, when he realized the car wasn’t moving, Tony peeked his eyes open and found Happy still fiddling with the radio. 

“Hey, Hogan,” Tony said, kicking the back of the driver’s seat a few times. “Pick a goddamn station and let’s go already.”

“Keep kicking me and you can walk home,” Happy said, still flipping through stations. 

Grunting, Tony gave Happy’s seat one last petulant kick, then resumed his sprawl; he was comfortable for all of two seconds before the dulcet tones of Limp Bizkit filled the car. 

“Seriously?”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to stay back there,” Happy said, looking at Tony in the rearview mirror as he backed away from the curb.

“I’m pretty sure all of my senses are offended right now,” Tony groaned. “You’re basically inflicting actual physical pain on me, Hogan, so I hope you’re happy.”

“Like your shit is any better,” Happy said, swatting Tony away as he reached for the radio. 

“My actual shit is better than this, like if I took a crap right now it wouldn’t stink as much as this song does.”

“Shut up,” Happy grumbled, shaking his head. He brushed Tony’s hand out of the way and let his own hand hover in front of the radio and for one tantalizing second, Tony thought he was going to change the station, but he just turned up the volume. Sulking, Tony slumped back into his seat and tried to brace himself for forty more minutes of auditory torture, but his misery was short-lived because Happy switched to Tony’s favorite heavy metal station as soon as the song was over.

“You were _pouting_ ,” Happy explained before Tony could ask. “It was distracting. This better?”

“Fuck yeah,” Tony said. “I love this song.” 

“Figures,” Happy said. In the back seat, Tony thrashed his head around and punched the back of the empty passenger seat’s headrest in time with the music as Happy shook his head and merged onto the freeway. Tony kicked the front seat again and, when Happy ignored him, he scooted forward and stuck his head between the seats, directly over Happy’s right shoulder.

“Hey Happy, guess what!” Tony said quietly into Happy’s ear. Happy continued to ignore him so, when the chorus came around, Tony took a deep breath just in time to sing along.

“I AM IRON MAN,” Tony shout-sang into Happy’s ear. Happy visibly startled and Tony quickly retreated to the back seat.

“Fucking Christ, Tony,” Happy snapped. “Are you _trying_ to make me crash this car? I thought you liked this car.”

“You barely even flinched,” Tony said, leaning his head back against the window again. 

“You’re an ass.”

“Guilty as charged,” Tony said, holding his hands up. Happy laughed and turned the radio down to a non-deafening volume while Tony slouched down even further and closed his eyes even though he had no intention of taking a nap. 

“You’re being quiet,” Happy commented after a few minutes of silence. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” Tony said. He wasn’t actually very tired but he also wasn’t sure what he was, besides still kind of drunk. 

“Out of practice, huh?”

“Huh?” 

“You haven’t really gone out like this since Jim left,” Happy commented. “No wonder you’re tired.”

“I guess.”

“You ever think maybe you’re getting too old for this stuff?”

“I’m not old,” Tony said stubbornly. “Rhodey’s way older than me, anyway. So if I’m old, he’s, like, geriatric.”

“Three years is not ‘way older’,” Happy said, watching Tony in the rearview mirror. “I’m just saying, maybe it’s a good thing, you know? You can’t do that shit forever, not like the way you used to.”

“Eyes on the road, Hogan. Just drive the car,” Tony said, closing his eyes again. It wasn’t that he _couldn’t_ live like that anymore, he just...didn’t want to. Sure, he had a good night, but the idea of doing it again the next night, and the night after that, and on and on didn’t sound nearly as appealing as it used to. 

Rhodey was only in town through the weekend and Tony knew it would be weeks, if not months, before they could go out again. Tony was no stranger to going out and finding his own fun without Rhodey, of course, but this time he hadn’t even thought to try (which he knew was probably a good thing; Tony mostly stayed out of trouble with Rhodey around, largely because unlike Tony, Rhodey knew when to slow down, when to stop drinking, and when to take Tony’s keys away and call Happy for a ride home). This time, Tony traded that kind of fun for something different, something exciting and unexpected and full of other things that looked like their own new kind of fun.

Other things that looked like...well, they looked a lot like Bruce. 

If Tony had listened to Pepper and Rhodey, he would’ve figured it out hours, if not days, earlier. But Tony was Tony, so it took 45 minutes of drunken introspection in the back seat of his car for him to realize that, yes, he _had_ changed, he was different, and the difference was Bruce. Quietly, without realizing what was happening, Tony had changed his life, shifted his interests, his activities, his priorities, to align with Bruce’s. 

Maybe it was the booze talking, but Tony didn’t mind that at all. 

“Hey Boss, you awake back there?”

Tony grunted an affirmative grunt without opening his eyes. 

“Oh, okay. I thought you were passed out and I was gonna have to carry you inside again.”

“Not tonight, sorry to disappoint you,” Tony said. He looked outside and realized they were pulling into his driveway.

“Hey, watch it,” Happy said as Tony stumbled getting out of the car. Tony stuck his tongue out as he slammed the door shut and headed inside, planning to go straight to bed.

Once inside, Tony quickly realized he was too preoccupied to fall asleep and so, fifteen minutes later, instead of in his bed, Tony was sprawled out on the couch downstairs halfway through his second consecutive beer. He was thinking about his Bruce situation and about how he knew he probably couldn’t deny the existence of said situation anymore, but that didn’t automatically make the situation everything his friends kept making it out to be.

Yes, both Pepper and Rhodey were really good at figuring out what was going on with Tony, often before Tony himself realized there was even anything to figure out, but they weren’t always right, at least not this time. They couldn’t be. Even if Tony wanted them to be right, they couldn’t be.

_Did_ he want them to be right? Was he just, like Pepper said, in denial? Was he really in...whatever with Bruce? 

“Nope,” Tony said out loud, tossing the empty can in the general direction of the garbage. He knew he was way too drunk to explore that particular concept without opening some very dangerous doors, so he shook his head and made his way upstairs, stopping by the liquor cabinet for a shot or three (because he didn’t feel drunk enough to make his brain shut up so he could fall asleep) before peeling his clothes off as he walked down the hall. 

Clad only in boxers by the time he reached his bedroom, he practically collapsed in his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He could feel his brain starting to slow down, undoubtedly thanks to the shots, until his thoughts (which almost always felt like they were ricocheting around his brain) were calmly focused on two pressing issues from that day, neither of which would be resolved before he finally fell asleep.

The first issue was that he didn’t know if Bruce was still mad at him or not.

The second issue was that he wondered if Pepper was serious about deleting his Two Dots scores, because he definitely didn’t finish the rest of those stupid proposals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah remember how I said I've been working on this chapter for, like, a year? That was not an exaggeration. AND NOW I'M POSTING IT (which is possibly a sign that the end times are near, idk)! 
> 
> Fun fact: the scene with Rhodey is one of the very first things I wrote for this story (appx 100 years ago) and it has remained largely intact all the way though. 
> 
> THANK YOU THANK YOU to all y'all who are still reading this! I can't tell you how excited I was/am that people are still reading/Kudos-ing/commenting! <3

**Author's Note:**

>  _"the road outside my house is paved with good intentions/hired a construction crew cause it's **hell on the engine** "_ \- "Hum Hallelujah" - Fall Out Boy


End file.
